


Through Magic and Time

by Missmusicluver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Ancient One absolute sass, Awesome Howling Commandos, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Hydra (Marvel), Magic, Mutants, No Hogwarts, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Rune Lore, SHIELD, SO MUCH RESEARCH OH GOD, Study of Ancient Runes (Harry Potter), Time Travel, mutant and proud
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-01-27 10:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 81,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21390637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missmusicluver/pseuds/Missmusicluver
Summary: Hermione Granger is 28 years old, working as an Unspeakable for the Ministry when an UES (Unidentified Energy Source), only nick-named by other professionals in her area of work as 'the tesseract', quite literally rips her away from her world and deposits her into one unknown. Stranded in the 1940's, in an alternate universe with no Hogwarts, and no way to get home, Hermione must navigate a world with a growing S.H.I.E.L.D., World War II, and new feelings for a Man-With-A-Plan from Brooklyn.This will progress through "Captain America: First Avenger" and make a life of its own. Multiple chapters.LONG story. So long. So much research.Eventually meshing with Avengers and gang.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Steve Rogers, Hermoine Granger/Ron Weasley - Past
Comments: 127
Kudos: 397
Collections: Fics I loved, Great stories to reread, Marvel Verse FF





	1. UES (Unidentified Energy Source)

#  Part 1 

* * *

“But you know that when the truth is told, that you can get what you want, or you can just get old.”

—Billy Joel, "Vienna"

* * *

* * *

November 10th 2007

Hermione peered closely at the mysterious UES she had been called in from London for, and waved her wand over the bioluminescence glass looking cube. She tracked the information a quick quill was delivering in the air next to her with expert eyes.

The Unidentified Energy Source that had originally been found in Norway had somehow come to be in the hands of _Der Königliche Nachkomme_, or the Royal Progeny, the term for the German Wizarding Government.

King Roland II, Duke of Saxe-Gotha and leader of the German Wizarding Progeny, was reportedly so baffled at the item that he personally asked Kingsley for help in identifying the enigmatic object. It was nick-named amongst the few of the magical experts who had seen it so far simply as '_the tesseract_'.

Hermione was called in as a specialist from the Unspeakables to handle the case over 6 hours ago. Kingsley had shaken her hand before she'd left, and had told her to take as much time as needed. 

However, for all of it's mysterious background, it was quickly acknowledged amongst her peers as a _brilliant_ piece of study. Hermione was inclined to agree with the sentiment rather quickly after reading through her own quick quill notes.

The tesseract was giving off a small amount of _gamma radiation_, which Hermione knew only emitted in nuclear fission during nuclear explosions, making the small cube some sort of self sustaining power source with absolutely no reactant. More than that, it was _emitting_ _energy_ potentially powerful enough to sustain several countries for the _rest of forever_, and it was small enough to fit in a jacket pocket or a briefcase.

It made absolutely no sense.

Hermione barely regarded the two nameless wizards on her left, watching her examination. One of the wizards, a portly middle aged man with salt and peppered hair crossed his arms over his chest. "You can see the problem then, _ja_?" his heavy German accent asked her.

Hermione nodded and waved her wand to the quick quill so it returned to the desk. "This isn't magical," she concluded, and he nodded. "It gives off no magical signature of its own, although it's years, if not decades above current muggle technology." She shook her head. "No country or muggle would be able to make this. Not now."

"So then vhere did it come from, hm?" He asked stepping forwards and waving his own wand over the cube. "Not from us, no. Not from them, the muggles, no. And it was taken from a cave which has not been opened for over four hundred years." He peered at the blue glow from the object with fascination. "So _vhere_ did it come from?"

Hermione frowned. She let the new information process in growing confusion. "That's-" she started, shaking her head, and pushing a loose curl behind her ear. "-I mean, that's impossible."

"Is it?" The last person in the room was an older middle aged man with an American accent in an auror's uniform. He gave her an unimpressed look. "We live in a world where one could turn a cat into a stove top, but you can't believe in an energy source that's older than your government?" he asked impatiently. He shook his head and huffed.

Hermione's eyes flashed. "That's _magic_," she emphasized sharply to the American wizard.

She didn't care who he thought he was, Hermione was currently the senior adviser in the Cooperation of European and Asian Unspeakables, arguably the most educated and qualified wizards and witches in the world. She knew what _magic_ could do.

"This- this _tesseract," _she continued, "is not magical. It doesn't run off of anything in our world except miraculously high nuclear fission and its' gama photons."

The American Auror had been staring at the ceiling with his hands folded across his chest, but his eyes snapped back to her at her words, and then he nodded slowly. "You know your science. Good," he answered, "because that's exactly what I'm talking about." He walked forwards with a handful of parchment and placed them besides her. "Based off recent tests, just _touching_ the surface of the tesseract emits the same magnitude of energy factored in joules as the total yield of Tsar Bomba. The largest nuclear weapon ever tested."

Hermione suddenly leaned away from the surface of the unassuming cube, grateful for the strict teachings from the Unspeakables in never touching an unknown object. "You _tested_ that?" She asked.

The Auror nodded. "It had been an accident in transport. It touched the side of his exposed arm. His name was Joseph."

She blinked. "And the body?" Hermione was even afraid to ask.

"Dust. In under a moment," he answered. "That kind of energy doesn't come from the no-mags or the magical community _here_."

Hermione repeated his words in her mind. "So what? It came from..?"

"My hypothesis? Aliens," the American shrugged, and Hermione nearly scoffed. "Not of this world, clearly more advanced, non-magical, and possibly older than classic texts."

Hermione didnt deign that with a response. She turned to the only other wizard in the room. "And you?" Hermione asked the German wizard.

He tucked his hands into his pockets. "My theory is just as fantastical I am afraid. I believe it vas left from an ancient civilization long gone from us. Leftover technology in zheir time."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I wouldn't have believed either theory if I hadn't seen this today, but-" she watched the glow from inside the tesseract reflect across the glass panes. "I'm going to have to take this to my lab for further research."

"I thought as much," The American immediately sighed. "Alright, here, let me go get the paperwork for another transport for this thing. I'll be back in a minute." He turned and left the room with a swirl of his Auror robes.

"I vill let my colleagues know we vill be going to London. Please, excuse me," the older wizard nodded kindly and followed the other out the door.

Hermione went back to studying the strange cube. "Nearly unlimited power," she mused to herself, "All contained in such a small thing."

She took up her wand and sent a patronus to both Harry and Ron to let them know she'd be unavailable for the next couple of days with a new case, and then another to Kingsley to let him know she was on her way back.

She watched her Bay Mare patronus disappear into nothing with her messages and mildly missed the small otter that she had known as a student. Her patronus had shifted after the war, right after she had broken things off with Ron and after he and Harry had started Auror training. She had abandoned the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures around the same time after it became clear that her 'status' would only allow her to do so much for others. She found her true calling in discovering mysterious magical objects and their properties. The upheaval in her emotions and life had surprised her enough one day that it left her with a new patronus.

That had been ten years ago.

She was now 28 with a degree not only from Hogwarts, but with a mastery in Origination of Foreign Magic, Arithmancy, Charms, and much to Harry and Ron's chagrin, History of Magic. Her motivation never wavered, her curiosity never dimmed. Four three years after Hogwarts, Hermione enrolled herself into a proper uni where she majored in Applied Sciences. Although she had never been able to return her parent's memories, she was sure that they would have been proud of her when she graduated in two and a half years at nearly 24.

After learning what she could from Hogwarts, Uni, and various teachers from her mastery, she applied herself to the Department of Mysteries and focused everything that she had into learning everything she wanted with free reign.

Years later, she was here. The top of her peers, the most influential Unspeakable in Britain, and-still single. No children like Harry and Ginny. No spouse like Ron and Leanne Morgan, a hufflepuff girl in their year she'd never been close with. No family as her parents were still happily living their life in Australia. Just her, but at the top of her professional career and she was satisfied with just that.

She still had time for other things if she really wanted it later; at least that's what she told herself.

Hermione watched the dancing lights within the tesseract and levitated the cube from the briefcase with a wordless charm. She made the cube rotate slightly in the air so she could look at the perfect glass formation. She could find no scratches, nicks, or uneven edges the closer she looked.

She pulled the cube closer to her and put the cube just above her head so she could use the room's fluorescent lighting to highlight the edges of the cube. It was as if the bioluminescence glass had just _formed_ as a cube and it boggled Hermione's mind.

"Where did you _come_ from?" Hermione whispered to herself, studying the cube with intense focus.

Then several things happened at once.

The door that had let out the two wizards from earlier slammed open with a ricocheting '_Boom' _across the room and Hermione lost focus for a split second.

A young man probably five years younger than Hermione burst into the room with a letter tightly held in his fist. "A message for you Miss-!"

But in the same moment, Hermione's levitation spell faltered, and the cube started to fall from the air right above Hermione's face. Instinct overran her thoughts and she lifted her hands to catch the tesseract before it fell.

As the smooth glass-like surface dropped into both of her outstretched hands, Hermione's eyes widened and something older than fear shot through her. 

Before she could move, before the young man could take another step in the room, before Hermione could _scream_, the tesseract shone like a blue fired beacon in her hands, and pure energy exploded outwards like a bomb.

Hermione didn't feel the burst of energy vaporize her skin and internal organs, or see the room implode on itself in the next moment, but she did remember seeing the young man's face for a split second in absolute horror before blackness washed over her eyes, and she fell backwards into nothing.

* * *

November 10th 1940

Hermione was jerked awake by the tip of a heavy object pushing into her chest. Her eyes flew open to a dark sky with bright spotlights from somewhere above, and she choked on the air she tried to relearn into breathing. A blaring alarm was ripping through the night and the metal object jabbed at her viciously again.

Hermione took in her surroundings through blurry eyes and hacking coughs. Several deep male voices began yelling at the same time, overlapping one another aggressively.

"_Keine Bewegung!_" One said very close to her and Hermione tipped her head towards them. Not English, Hermione knew, but what-.

"_Hände hoch!_" he shouted again, and held something in his arms at her.

Hermione raised her hands into the air, recognizing a gun when she saw one. German, her racing mind finally supplied, they were speaking German.

Hermione put her hands out to the muggle men surrounding her in the dark and yelled back with what little German she knew, "_Keine Gefahr! Ich bin keine Bedrohung_!"

"_Unten bleiben_!"

Hermione kept her hands in the air and got to her knees from the ground she'd - _landed_ in.

She noticed that tall concrete walls surrounded her. It reflected a castle-like compound with wire fencing and spot lighted watch towers sprinkled throughout. She was in a muggle military base? Where were the other wizards? The messenger who-

Hermione let the last few seconds come back to her, and she felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold outside air slide down her back.

Dead. She should be dead after touching the tesseract.

"Where am I?" Hermione asked, looking to the men around her.

It was then that she noticed what they were wearing. Unlike the early 2000's muggle military wear of blotted tans and dark greens, the men around her wore black helmets with black belted jackets, trousers, and wellies. And for some reason, when she squinted at the upper right arm, a patch with a red octopus rested where their military alliance should have sat. Hermione had never before heard of any military under the sigil of a red octopus.

"Vhere are you?" A smooth voice with very little German accent repeated her question.

Hermione looked up and was met with a tall dark haired man with laughing brown eyes. "Tsk my dear," he said to her like she was child. "No need to play dumb."

Hermione frowned. "I'm not trying- I - how exactly did I get here?" Hermione questioned cautiously, not daring to go for her wand with so many eyes on her.

The other soldiers stood apart from the man in front of her, clearly deferential to his power. Their leader. "Well, that was actually a question I was going to ask you," the man smiled. "You see there was an explosion on my grounds, and when my men came to investigate, we find you. Alone, unconscious, and apparently, without even a name. Very suspicious unfortunately."

Hermione swallowed. "My name is Hermione, and honestly, I have no idea how I got here."

The man tipped a small smile. "Ah, with what I have gathered, I can not believe this to be true. You see, this is my property, Castle Kaufmann, and British Spies are not welcome here."

"A British- but I'm not a British spy!" Hermione denied vehemently. "I'm sorry, but I'm_ lost_ and in need of a tele-"

"I think not," he interrupted. "I have many uses for one such as yourself who can simply _wander_ in," he glanced to the guards. "Take her. Keep her with zhe good doctor."

Guards captured her arms and Hermione dared not go for her wand now. She didn't even know where _here_ was. "Wait! Wait, what is your name?"

The tall man smiled indulgently at her and crossed his suited arms behind his back. "My name is Johann Schmidt, welcome. You are now my prisoner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> German translations from beginning to end:
> 
> Keine Bewegung! - Stop where you are!
> 
> Hände hoch! - Raise your hands in the air!
> 
> Keine Gefahr! Ich bin keine Bedrohung! - No threat! I am no threat
> 
> Unten bleiben! - Stay down!
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Billy Joel - Vienna](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wccRif2DaGs).


	2. Castle Kaufmann

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I don't think the movie did NEAR enough justice to the bad-ass that is Peggy Carter and I'm here to rectify that.  
Also, if you think that some of the scenes before the movie officially started sound a little familiar, they are - you're not crazy, I've pulled certain things from the comics and added it in.

* * *

"Let me tell you what I wish I'd known when I was young and dreamed of glory: You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story."

—_Hamilton,_ "Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story"

* * *

* * *

November 10th, 1940

Hermione was led through the dark landscapes of the night into the compound that Johann had called Castle Kaufmann. Velvet hangings hung next to enormous wooden framed windows, and classic dark wood staircases led Hermione and her guards through rooms, hallways, and foyers of extravagant decorum. More guards were posted intermittently around the rooms Hermione passed by and she soon lost where she'd been and where she was going. It truly was an enormous estate.

Her guards opened a door down a lone hallway somewhere deep in the castle, and Hermione followed through. Inside sat pristine medical tables and cabinets with old styled medical equipment. Old fashioned stainless steel needles with the large handles were precariously laying over sections of the counters. Glass beakers filled with various liquids and mixtures were clumped in organized chaos around the room and a stainless steel crank operated operating table with an enormous surgery spotlight above the bed made up the back of the room.

Everything that Hermione could see was made from stainless steel, a very retro look that was popular in a lot of black and white photos from the past. Being there was like stepping back into the 1940's Hermione mused, studying a shelf of books written in German near the door.

"You must be zhe newest visitor," someone sitting near the back of the room said suddenly.

Hermione's guards let go of her arms and left through the door behind them, locking her in with the new stranger in the old fashioned medical room.

He was an older, light skinned man, probably around his 60's, with short brown curling hair peppered with white and matching short facial hair. He wore a brown tweed suit with a dull looking tie and vest beneath it. He had kind brown eyes.

"My name is Hermione," Hermione introduced herself for the second time that night to a stranger, but trusting her gut instincts, and moving towards the man.

"Dr. Abraham Erskine," He nodded back. He folded a corner of the page he was on and closed his book, giving Hermione his full attention. They shook hands. "That was quite an entrance you made. Such a powerful blue light would not help with undercover work I would think, _ja?_"

Hermione settled herself across from him on a tall metal bar chair and looked out at the window beside him. Even through the darkness, Hermione could see that he had an excellent vantage point across the castle. "Well that's simply because I'm not a spy, which was what that fellow Johann had accused me of. Spying for _what_ I have no idea. It was an accident that I'm here."

Dr. Erskine looked at her curiously. "Do you know where you are?"

"Johann said in the Castle Kauffman, which I'm guessing is somewhere in Germany."

"The Bavarian Alps," he said.

Hermione blinked. "If I remember correctly, that's in South East Germany sharing a border with Austria. Home to beautiful castles, great beer, and spectacular views over the mountains."

Dr. Erskine raised an eyebrow. "Did you read zhat from a book?"

Hermione nearly blushed like she would have if she were still a student. Instead she studied the landscape below them, refusing to feel embarrassed. "I read quite a lot."

He smiled kindly. "I can see. But, you missed the biggest part. It is also occupied now by the Nazi's. Worse than that, Hydra."

Hermione laughed without thought. "_Nazis_? The compound is militarian and the equipment is ancient I'll give you, but-"

Her companion sat in silence and the fluorescent lighting in the room deepened the lines on his face.

Hermione felt the smile slip away from her. "You're entirely serious aren't you?" she asked.

Dr. Erskine gazed at her through the tops of his glasses. "I have a question, if I may?"

Hermione felt small pieces start to fit together in the back of her mind. The tesseract, the uniforms, the medical equipment- "Yes?" she answered.

"What year do you zhink you are in?"

The question ricocheted back and forth in her mind. What _year_. "I'm beginning to doubt that it is 2007?"

Dr. Erskine's lips parted and his eyes widened. "Truly so far ahead?"

Hermione felt her stomach plummet and panic start to itch up the sides of her arms. "Dr. Erskine, please, what- _exactly_ what year is it today?"

The scientist took off his wire frame glasses and rubbed them shortly on a handkerchief he had in his front pocket before checking his watch. "It is 11:53 in the evening on November the 10th of 1940."

Hermione sank her weight to her elbows on the table. _1940_. She had time traveled. The tesseract had sent her back _in time_. Nearly 70 years in the past.

"Shit," Hermione breathed, too shocked to worry about her language.

She could feel the doctor's eyes watching her and she looked him over as well. Her mind slowly starting to move past the feeling of being _stupified_. "How did you- how could you _possibly_ even have guessed?"

Dr. Erskine folded his hands over his crossed legs. "Well, there is your garments. It was the first thing I saw. I have never seen someone dressed like you, and certainly not a woman from Britain."

Hermione surveyed her clothes and had to agree with the scientist.

Muggles, no matter what era would probably find her long black cloak and inner opaque lining, a distinguishable mark for her position in the Unspeakables, a little off from normal wear. She also wore long fitted black trousers tucked into slim dragonhide boots that went to the middle of her calf and a thin dark purple and opaque lined vest over a black long sleeved shirt to keep out the London cold. It was considered feminine, fashionable, and modest in her line of work and in her time. However, Hermione could agree that with what she was wearing it was a clear indication that she was not from _here_.

"Shit," Hermione said again, letting her thoughts and worry settle over her like a dark blanket.

"But the biggest fact was that you did not know who Hydra was."

Hermione frantically went over any memory or information in the database of her mind of the word '_Hydra_' and she came up empty. "I've never heard of them before."

His lips pursed. "Never? Not once in your studies?"

"Well Nazi Germany yes, and the atrocities from Hitler's reign of course, but I've never heard of an organization named _Hydra _before today." She paused. "And I can assure you, I have a very extensive background in European and American history."

"That- that is very strange."

Hermione shrugged and put a hand to her suddenly pounding head.

Dr. Erskine poured a small amount of clear liquid from a tumbler beside his window into a crystal glass and pushed it lightly over to Hermione. "Drink."

Hermione didn't question the choice and immediately threw back whatever was in it. Dr. Erskine took the glass back from Hermione when she felt the vodka hit the bottom of her empty stomach.

Her eyes watered and she nearly gagged on the substance. "That's- Merlin that's _gasoline_."

Dr. Erskine threw back his own shot and smacked his lips in satisfaction when the glass came down empty. "It is _Russian_, very hard to get a hold of in zhese parts." He smiled and tipped the decanter at Hermione to offer her more, but Hermione shook her head.

When was the last time she had eaten?

Dr. Erskine took another shot and put the drink away. "You looked shocked to be where I said you were," he remarked.

Hermione grimaced. "Like I said, it was all... an accident."

"You did not mean to come to zhis place?" he asked. "Or did you mean, you did not know you could travel through time?"

"Both I suppose," Hermione answered honestly. "I .. well I touched something I should not have touched. Then, suddenly, I found myself with people pointing guns at me. Almost seventy years in the past." Hermione took a deep breath and shook her head. "I have no idea how this happened. Worse, I have no idea how to get back." She could try to apparate back to Hogwarts and see if she could find someone willing to help her?

"You cannot recreate your contraption from before?"

Hermione shook her head, recalling the perfectly formed lines of the tesseract. "I didn't make it to begin with."

"So you are here in Nazi Germany almost 70 years out of time."

Hermione sighed again. "It would seem so."

Dr. Erskine steepled his hands together. "So what will you do?"

What _would_ she do? She had to contact someone from the wizarding world first. "Find help. Leave." She could reach out to Dumbledore in this time. Hermione realized he was still alive here. Fighting a different kind of war.

Hermione watched the spotlights in the compound trace over the foreign lands around the caste through the window.

"Not many have said they were able to escape this place," the doctor commented dryly, watching the window as well.

"Are you a prisoner as well?" Hermione asked, truly unbelieving that the man in front of her could be associated to such a dark organization. _Good Merlin she was dealing with Nazis!_

"They have my wife, my son, and my daughter somewhere until I finish my work."

Hermione felt terrible sadness for the doctor. "When were they taken?"

"September 14th 1935," he smiled without humor.

"Over five years ago," Hermione concluded.

"One day I Will return to them. It will-"

The door to the medical room opened and a brown haired woman stepped in with a tray of food in her hands. She was a little taller than Hermione with braided pigtails down both sides of her face and generous curves accentuated by the brown serving dress she was wearing.

"_Doktor, ich habe das Abendessen mitgebracht_," she announced lightly, stepping into the room with a guard behind her.

"_Vielen dank, Ava_," Dr. Erskine replied politely and stood from his chair.

Hermione followed the Doctor to the maid as she dropped her tray of food before them. "_Herr Schmidt wünscht sich, euch beide morgen zum Frühstück zu treffen_."

"_Wir werden beide kommen_," he nodded to her. "Goodnight Ava."

"Goodnight Doctor," she said back with a very heavy German accent. "Fräulein Hermione." She bowed her head a little to the both of them, and then both she and guard disappeared back behind their locked door.

"I don't speak enough German to have understood all that she said," Hermione stepped closer to the food and reached for one of the two silver covered plates.

Dr. Erskine uncovered his own food and brought it back to the stainless steel counter by the window they'd sat previously. "We are being summoned to dine with Herr Schmidt, or Johann as you know him, tomorrow morning."

"Does he normally dine with you?"

"Do time travelers normally fall out of zhe sky?" he answered.

As soon as they had finished their portions of steak, green beans, potatoes, and steamed carrots, two guards came to collect their trays and appeared at the door again.

"I think this is where we must part Miss. Granger," the doctor stood from his place and moved her tray away with his.

A guard reached for her arm and Hermione threw off the urge to punch a soft part. "Tomorrow?" she asked instead. She didn't know why, but she needed to know she would see him again.

"First thing in the morning," he agreed, his eyes surveying the medical office like he was memorizing it.

Hermione touched the sleeve of his tweed jacket. "Goodnight Dr. Erskine."

He smiled softly at her. "Goodnight Miss. Granger."

* * *

Later That Night

Hermione had been led to a guest room not far from the medical office that she had shared with Dr. Erskine. While the windows were locked, and the door locked behind her, Hermione felt that it was actually a very nice room. A little cold from the night mountain air, but it was nothing a little warming spell couldn't take care of and she had certainly slept in worse places before. It had a four poster bed similar to what she'd slept in during her time at Hogwarts although much bigger, a large wardrobe, a vanity and mirror, and a conjoining bathroom. There was even a record player on a side table near the bedroom door for her. All very cozy if she didn't add in that she was on a Nazi compound.

There were men's pajamas waiting for her on her bed, and after a quick wash in the other room, Hermione found herself standing in front of the bedroom vanity taking the image of herself in.

She had to admit, she hadn't changed much since Hogwarts. Maybe it was because Wizards and Witches aged slower than muggles, maybe it was her extended time dealing with time turners with the Unspeakables in her studies. Maybe it was even the tesseract. Either way, Hermione knew she looked younger than she should in the mirror. Much _m__uch_ younger.

If she were to look at herself from an outside perspective, she'd say she was on the cusp of 21 or 22. Not the 28, nearly 29 years she knew she was.

Hermione had no idea if it was entirely normal or not as she had spent very little time staring at herself in a mirror throughout her adult career. Vanity wasn't something she cared for, and it certainly wasn't high on her list of priorities with her cases as she was almost always behind a desk or out in the field away from most of the populace.

Hermione put the borrowed pajamas on and stepped away from the mirror, spelling her hair dry and watching her curls fall and soften into ringlets down her back. Tomorrow she would have to find a way out of Germany and back to magical London.

She was sure there were magical towns in between Germany and Britain, but she didn't know their exact location, not in 1940. And she wasn't sure how she would travel from here to there either as she had no muggle money on her, passport, or ID.

The fact that she was nearly 70 years in the past also made her very fearful of her traveling options. _Terrible things happen to Wizards who meddle with time_, Hermione had warned Harry when they were 13. She had read the Chaos Theory and its subsequent Butterfly Effect in her time observing Time Turners and it basically stated that small changes made in a certain condition could result in large differences in a later state. Hermione wondered if her time traveling would set off ripples in time that would change what she could go home to, and if it would affect her now presently in the past. Theories flashed across her mind, each one more dismal than the last to her outcome and Hermione huffed in frustration.

Dr. Erskine was the last thought on her list, but a powerful one. Hermione couldn't help but _feel_ as if she ought to do something for the Doctor. There was no chance that she could take on an entire military fortress by herself and rescue him through the fire, but she did want to do _something_. Even giving him an exact location of his family so he could try to find them by himself was an idea. But only if it didn't disrupt the timeline she wasn't sure she was already meddling with. Goodness she needed to talk to an Unspeakable with more knowledge on this.

She sighed at the frustration of it all and tucked the covers more firmly around her again. It would have to wait until the morning.

* * *

November 11th 1940

Hermione woke up to a soft knock on the bedroom door. Weary of a man stepping into the room with her so undressed caused Hermione to launch herself out of bed hurriedly.

"Fräulein Hermione?" A familiar and heavily German accented female voice asked from beyond the wooden door. "Are you avake?"

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. The maid from the night before. "Ava?" Hermione asked.

"Good Morning Fräulein Hermione, I vill be stepping in now!" was the only notification that she received before the taller maid let herself into the bedroom and closed the door securely behind her. She was wearing her maids uniform from the day before complete with the long braids down her chest. Hermione couldn't help but study her smiling face as she took Hermione in as well. Ava had very light skin, nearly porcelain, with a square jaw and high cheekbones that accented her broader shoulders and full lips. She had perfectly darkened arched eyebrows that framed her wide charcoaled hazel eyes. All in all, she was a very beautiful woman.

Ava made to move around Hermione and surveyed the room lightly. "Hm, it is warmer in here than other places in zhe house."

Hermione mentally cursed. She'd kept self sustaining warming charms around the room last night and hadn't thought of heaters in the castle other than the fireplaces in their rooms. "Perhaps it is just having a person in the room to occupy it that keeps it warm?" Hermione asked airily and made to start for the bathroom, leaving her wand under her pillow by the bed.

"Herr Schmidt asked for me to help you zhis morning," Ava said following her.

Hermione nearly cursed again and turned to the woman. "Is their hot water in the tap for a bath?"

"Yes."

"Then as much as I appreciate it, I don't need help this morning but thank you."

Ava stood still for a moment a her words, and Hermione wondered if she had spoken too fast for the woman to understand. "I will put music for you to hear now," she announced a second later and walked to the bedroom before Hermione could say anything else.

Hermione let the building annoyance go. Ava had a job to do just as Hermione did. A woman's voice echoed with violin instruments in German from the record player in Hermione's bedroom and she turned to take off her pajama shirt. Ava came back into the bathroom and started the tap for her bath that started to dispense water into the porcelain tub loudly.

Hermione unbuttoned the last of her nightshirt and nearly screamed when Ava's hand wrapped around her mouth and pulled her down. Ava's weight and gravity worked against Hermione and she fell against the taller woman with pin wheeling arms. Before Hermione could scream, Ava's lips came close to her ear and she whispered over the noise of the filling tub and the music from Hermione's room urgently, "Stop struggling. My name is Peggy Carter and I work for the Strategic Scientific Reserve in America."

Hermione went limp. Gone was the heavily German accent and instead was a perfectly British one, and from _Hampstead_ of all places. _Peggy Carter_.

Hermione slowly went to lift Ava- Peggy's hand away from her face and turned to face her. "You're from England."

"So are you." Her eyes flitted across the room silently as if someone could hear them.

Hermione's eyes widened at the sudden thought in her mind. "You're a spy!"

"Not so loud!" Peggy took a step towards Hermione so their faces were very close. "Every wall in this castle has ears, do you want to get me killed?"

Questions and observations flashed across Hermione's mind. "What are you doing here?"

"Trying to end the War, no thanks to you," she whispered.

Hermione spluttered. "I haven't done anything."

Peggy's eyes nailed her to the ground. "You show up in the middle of the night, talking about _time traveling_ and you think that won't bodge the S.S.R's plans, _Hydra's_ plans?"

Hermione's eyes widened. _Every wall in this castle has ears. _"Oh Merlin."

"I haven't been able to communicate with my contact since_ I_ heard, but you can bet Schmidt has made plans for you by now."

Panic flooded Hermione. "I need to go."

"You _can't._ Schmidt has mobilized his forces and the grounds are over run with soldiers. You won't make it ten meters."

Hermione thought of her wand in the bedroom under her pillow. She could apparate out if she needed to then.

How far she'd actually make it was an entirely different matter. She knew of no current landmarks close enough for her to apparate to without getting splinched along the way. And she would be in a war zone. Merlin forbid she should land on a mine or get shot along the way.

"I'll figure it out."

"You've become an interest to the leader of one of the most dangerous special weapons divisions of the world. He would rather burn and salt the ground of his homeland than let you go free by now."

Hermione's bath tub was nearly filled to the brim. She still didn't have a plan. "What exactly is your suggestion then?"

"Stay here wh-"

Hermione scoffed and felt the panic rise within her like a cresting wave. "You're out of you-"

"Look -I'm planning to save Dr. Erskine. You can come too."

The feeling of drowning stopped. "When?"

"In two days," she confessed. "I already have a plan and a plane ready."

Hermione struggled to swallow. "He could kill me by then."

Peggy didn't disagree. "Dr. Erskine's work is very _very_ important. It could change the tide of the War."

Hermione didn't have anything to say to that. She shouldn't have even _been there_. "Okay."

"Alright?"

Hermione nodded. "Two days."

Relief and a tiny flicker of surprise flashed across Peggy's face. "Well- good. And remember, you can't say or do anything that could jeopardize my position."

Hermione huffed, a little offended. "Oh honestly. I'm not an idiot, of course I won't."

Peggy nodded. "Good. Now get in the tub, you have to get to breakfast."

* * *

Later That Morning

Somehow Johann had someone deliver woman's clothing to Hermione's chambers that fit her near perfect. It was a button up light blue dress, reminiscent of the Beauxbatons Academy's uniform Hermione had seen in her fourth year, with a quarter inch frill down the front of her collar to the hem just below her knees. There was a thin cloth belt that tied around her waist to accentuate her form with silk stockings and a pair of sturdy black pumps.

"Does he treat all his guests this way?" Hermione had asked Peggy, cinching the belt close to her body.

"Herr Schmidt is alvays good to guests," Peggy answered in Ava's persona again.

"Well how lovely of him," Hermione grimaced.

"To breakfast, _ja_?" Peggy asked, walking to the front door.

Hermione silently lunged for her wand under the pillow of the bed while Peggy's back was to her and layered a sticking charm, a notice-me-not, and a muggle repellent charm to her bare skin before sticking her wand on her upper right thigh.

It was going to bloody sting if she had to remove it, but it would do the trick while she didn't have her wand holster on her. She threw another notice-me-not on the pile of clothes from home and walked out after Peggy.

The walk from her room to the dinning room didn't take long at all. Sooner than Hermione had expected, Peggy led her to a pair of open alder wood double doors that entered into an enormous paneled dining room. At the very end of the dining room table fit for a Hogwarts house, sat Johann at the head with Dr. Erskine on his right.

They both stood from their seats when they saw her enter the room. "Fräulein Granger," Johann bowed his head slightly. "Velcome."

Hermione walked easily to both men and nodded back to the leader of Hydra. "Good Morning Johann."

He smiled thinly at the use of his name and both men seated themselves after she did. "I hope you are hungry. I have only the best for people like yourself." He snapped his fingers and doors previously closed behind Hermione's chair opened without a sound and a lineup of wait staff bore silver platters to their table. Rolls of sausage, piles of bacon, mounds of ham and eggs and toast and jam and fruit was laid before them.

Hermione was nearly speechless at the display. _Nearly_. "Spies?" she questioned, reaching for the toast first. She wondered briefly if she should be worried about poisoned food.

"Hmm, no. Time travelers," Johann smirked.

Dr. Erskine choked on the coffee he had started to sip and Hermione paused in adding jam to her toast. The dim lighting of the room did nothing to hide the savage delight behind the Hydra leader's eyes.

"Well, that's certainly a step up from 'Spy'," she commented hollowly.

"You can not deny it. I have heard it from your own lips."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Eavesdropping you mean," and continued with her toast.

Johann reached for toast himself and added fruit to his plate before he began. "How I heard does not matter. It is now the prelude in the convergence of my plans that will concrete zhe coming denouement of the future. One which will now have a very special role for you to play."

Hermione chewed on her food and added small portions of the other sides presented to her. "I assume you're going to tell me what that is if I have such a part?"

He smiled wickedly. "A super human Fräulein Granger. The perfect soldier. The perfect human. The perfect army. Created by science into existence, and unstoppable in zhe purpose of man; war."

Hermione wanted to gag on her breakfast. "You want me to help you create a weapon?"

"No child. I already have the means to create my army. Dr. Erskine helped with that problem. No, you would be the thoughts of the future for our world. the blueprints to begin a new kind of civilization." He made eye contact with her, and shook his head slightly. "Ah, to see the things you must have seen. What you could give." He sighed shortly and went back to his breakfast.

Hermione had shivers down her legs and back and itched to run for the closest door and disapperate somewhere far far away.

"The serum is not yet ready," Dr. Erskine said with furrowed eyebrows. "I have not completed-"

"It will be," Johann interrupted. "By tonight. It will be ready for human testing."

Dr. Erskine put down his fork and shook his head. "It can not be ready so soon! There are-"

Johann slammed his fist against the wooden table and Hermione flinched on instinct as the china rattled. "I will hear no more! It will be ready tonight Doctor, or you will lose a family member."

Dr. Erskine paled and Hermione felt fury bubble beneath her skin. Johann wiped at his mouth and stood from the table elegantly. "I have much to prepare for, so I will leave you in the capable hands of zhe guards. Until tonight."

He swept himself from the table and out the double doors as Hermione placed her napkin down on her plate. She was no longer hungry. "Are you alright?" she asked the doctor across from her.

Dr. Erskine placed his napkin on the table as well and stood from his seat. "I must ... get back to my work. Fräulein Granger."

And then suddenly Hermione was left alone in the dinning room.

"Do you vish to go to your room?" Ava asked at her shoulder.

Hermione worked to not flinch at her sudden appearance. "Yes Ava, I wish to go to back." She stood silently, leaving her half empty plate and facing the taller woman.

"The Doctor will do the right thing," Peggy met her eyes with intent.

Hermione didn't know how to help something she wasn't sure she could interfere in. "I'm sure he will Ava. Thank you."

* * *

Later That Night

By the time night had fallen, Hermione had devoured two books Ava had gotten for her, and one had been entirely in German. By order of Johann, she was not allowed to leave her rooms, and Ava was not allowed to stay with her. So Hermione had no idea what time it was when she started hearing the screaming.

The castle was eerily silent when it started. No noise from the outside encampments could be heard, and nothing from inside the castle was echoing. It was as if everything around them was holding their breath.

And then Hermione heard someone _scream. _Absolutely gut wrenching, soul tearing, piercing cries of pain vibrated through the walls of the castle. It was as if someone was _dying._ The agony in it's shriek threw Hermione from her bed and towards the locked wooden door.

Consequences be damned, Hermione needed to know it wasn't _Dr. Erskine_ that was rebounding against the walls.

_Alohamora_, Hermione thought viciously, and her door swung open. Hermione readied herself for guards that didn't come, and she peered down the hallway outside her door.

It was completely empty.

She didn't waste time pondering the absence of her guards, but sprinted down the hallway that sounded closest to the screams.

"_What__ have you done to me?!"_ violently ripped through the air and Hermione pumped her arms faster down the deserted hallways. "_What__ have you- Ah!"_

Hermione pushed through a closed door and found a group of people standing outside Dr. Erskine's medical room. Another harsh scream pierced the air and Hermione made to throw herself against the people surrounding the open doorway. A solid hand grasped the top of her arm, and Hermione saw that it was Peggy. The taller woman silently shook her head.

"I told you it vas not ready! I told you!" Dr. Erskine's voice echoed from the room beyond and relief immediately flooded through Hermione. It wasn't Dr. Erskine screaming like he wished for death, it was-

"You fool! Look at what you've done to me, look at what I am. I- AH!" Johann's voice heightened into another spazzem of awful shrieks of pain. "S-S-S-Seize him!" Johann bellowed, and the guards from outside the room rushed the medical office.

Hermione pulled out her wand attached to her thigh, ignoring the burning pain from her skin. She would save him.

Hermione stepped forwards and lifted her wand to attack, but was jerked back again by a familiar hand. Peggy stared at Hermione with bewildered eyes. "Stop! If you interfere now, you'll get him killed," she whispered fiercely.

"I can save him!" Hermione whispered back, hastily putting her wand down before someone saw her.

"With a polished_ stick_?"

Hermione didn't have the time to explain. "It's a ... future thing."

Peggy furrowed her eyebrows. "You can't- oh no," she tightened her grip on Hermione's arm. Leading Dr. Erskine away down the hallway was a short balding man with light blonde hair and copper bespectacled eyes. "It's Dr. Arnim Zola."

Hermione had never seen or heard of the man before. She made to raise her wand again. "I will-"

"NO!" Peggy slashed her hands down and secured Hermione's arms to her sides. "If you do _anything_ it could kill him. Look at them, everyone wants to pull a trigger right now!"

"They're going to take him to... away. The dungeons or something, they could kill him!"

"He will be safe from getting executed or shot by one of the guards, his mind is valuable," she assured in a fierce whisper. "Stay down."

Peggy led her back by the arm out of the eyes of the guards, but before she was out of eyesight from Dr. Erskine's office, she caught a glimpse of the what used to be Johann. He stepped out near the door of the medical office, clawing at his disfigured face. His pale skin had dissolved from his skull and his sharp cheek bones stood out from his jaw line. The entirety of his visible body was covered in blood red skin like it was trying to bleed out. His nose was completely gone.

"What- _happened_ to him?" Hermione shuddered, letting herself be pulled away.

"Dr. Erskine warned him the serum wasn't ready for human consumption and Schmidt used it anyways," Peggy answered without mercy. "Come on, we've got to get you back to your room before anyone notices you escaped."

Hermione allowed herself to be led away, her thoughts concerned with the Hydra leader and his dramatic reaction to "the serum" she had heard about. What had it _done_ to him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up Next: An SSR escape.
> 
> German translation from beginning to end:
> 
> Doktor, ich habe das Abendessen mitgebracht- Doctor, I have brought dinner.
> 
> Vielen dank, Ava- Thank you, Ava
> 
> Herr Schmidt wünscht sich, euch beide morgen zum Frühstück zu treffen- Mr Schmidt wishes to meet you both for breakfast tomorrow.
> 
> Wir werden beide kommen- We will both come.
> 
> Fräulein- Young Lady
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Hamilton - Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_gnypiKNaJE)


	3. Strategic Scientific Reserve

* * *

"So much of me is made of what I learned from you. You'll be with me, like a handprint on my heart."

—_Wicked,_ "For Good"

* * *

* * *

Nov 13th 1940

Nearly two days had passed since Johann's disfigured transformation. Guards around the castle had started calling him in secret 'the Red Skull' for the bright red tint his outsides displayed and his apparent lack of skin.

Peggy had gone to Johann in his bedroom the day after he'd turned into _whatever_ he now was, to bring him food and to do some reconnaissance. Peggy had reportedly been shouted at before she could drop the dinner plate, and he had thrown something incredibly heavy against the closed door at her, bending the door hinges attached to the wall. Peggy had told Hermione that it might indicate he had acquired super strength from the serum.

Hermione had never heard of such a thing. She knew that certain potions brewed could give someone supplementary strength temporarily, but it would wear off within six hours at the very most. It certainly wouldn't change someone's DNA. Well, unless it was infused like a disease; comparable to lycanthropy or vampirism.

She then pondered on the other possible repercussions the serum might have done to Johann besides the super strength. Specifically his mind and personality. Granted he had already been a horrible man before the serum, she wondered how it would affect his already vindictive demeanor like a muggle drug would.

Her questions remained unanswered.

Peggy did not stay with Hermione in the nearly two days she was left in her guest room as the SSR agent was busy visiting and sneaking food to Dr. Erskine in the dungeon where he was being kept. She was left to her own devices and contemplated several times through her boredom as to how far she would go if she simply apparated and left, land mines and splinching be damned.

Her calculations all pointed to an increasingly high risk of injury or death without the proper information she needed to navigate this time period, and had concluded that she simply had to wait. Wait until she was rescued by what or who, Hermione had no idea, but she realized she was forced into relying on Peggy's information. So she tucked herself into bed with warming charms in the drafty room and made do with deciphering various German books she had nagged some of the guards for.

It was all well and fine until Hermione started hearing gunshots late on the second afternoon from Johann's transformation. It sounded like several automatic guns were going off at the same time and Hermione leapt from her bed.

Was it an attack? The rescue Peggy had said was coming? Hermione threw caution to the wind and transformed her pillowcase into a satchel and placed an undetectable extension and a feather weight charm on the inside before stuffing her Unspeakable uniform and boots inside. She was leaving _now_.

Hermione drew her wand from its hiding place beneath her pillow and undid the locks on her door with a precise flick of her wand. The wood flew open and a surprised guard just across the hallway opened his mouth in shock. Hermione threw a stunner at the man and a quick _obliviate_ to erase his knowledge of her wand. She wouldn't stay in the castle as a prisoner to these men, but she also couldn't put the time line at risk.

Hermione slipped from her room silently and headed towards the noise of echoing gunshots and vibrating explosions.

It seemed that the guards were either outside or in different parts of the castle as Hermione only ran into two others before she caught a glimpse of Peggy and _surprisingly,_ Dr. Erskine. The SSR agent had a hand at the back collar of the doctor's dirty white lab coat leading him around the corner. Hermione raced after them.

"Peggy!" she yelled watching them slip away.

Peggy turned around and pointed some sort of machine gun at her. Hermione put her hands in the air and Dr. Erskine turned around too, straightening his glasses. "Hermione!" he exclaimed when he recognized her with a relieved smile. He looked to Peggy and then frowned. "You knew?"

Peggy lowered the gun and Hermione caught up to them. "I found out before the breakfast with Johann. She told me she was planning your escape."

Before Dr. Erskine could answer, Peggy pulled him through the next door by the neck of his collar again. "Which I am still trying to do! Quickly, hurry up!" she yelled and kept her gun pointed in front of her. "We have to make it outside to the plane before Johann and the guards catch us."

"Plane?" Hermione asked. She kept her wand loose in her hand and pointed out above her waist. Peggy ignored her wand, but Dr. Erskine looked at it with confusion before he was lurched back by the material at his neck.

"I have told you Eva-_Peggy_, I can not just leave this place, they will find my family!"

"They won't get your family Doctor, you have nothing to fear," Peggy marched onwards.

Their small group ducked into an abandoned foyer. Dr. Erskine drew back from Peggy's grasp. "Have they been saved?" he asked breathlessly with wide eyes.

Peggy paused in her stride and opened her mouth uselessly for a moment before she made eye contact with him. "I feel as if I ought to tell you now rather than later, and risk loosing your trust Doctor, but believe me when I say we had no idea until very recently."

Hermione watched the hope die in the doctor's eyes and a glimmer of cold knowing pass over his face.

The echoes of gunshots seemed very far away. "Your family died in Dachau in 1937. Just over three years ago. They were being held in a concentration camp and passed from a typhus outbreak that killed thousands of other inmates there as well. I_ am_ sorry."

Dr. Erskine seem to collapse inwards. She watched the rolling sense of despair fall across his shoulders like a literal steel weight had been dropped from above and as he clawed his hands over his bespeckled eyes shaking his head insistently. "No. No it can not be so, zhey told me- zhey _promised_ me-"

His shoulders shook and the doctor fell to his knees on the polished marble. "My family."

Hermione's own grief filled her like a teacup close to the brim. The poor doctor, the poor _man. _"Dr. Erskine, I am so _so_ sorry, I can't-"

"I will _KILL_ him," he bellowed, snapping his head up. His face was flushed with wide and furious eyes, his hands were clenched at his face like they could brake the foundations of mountains, and the shaking from his shoulders that Hermione had witness was not from tears, but from the essence of his fury.

"How dare he-" Dr. Erskine stood on shaking legs. "My wife. My _children_."

The soft swish of Peggy's uniform as she planted herself in front of Dr. Erskine became the loudest noise of the room. "Dr. Erskine you _can't _kill Schmidt. He is too powerful now that he's taken the serum. He would kill you were you stand."

"I do not care! I will take his head from his-"

"You will die in vain," she whispered. "With nothing done to weaken him because he _can not be stopped_."

The florescent lighting of the foyer they lingered in reflected glistening eyes behind his glasses. He could not meet Peggy's stare. "I must-" he swallowed hollowly. "I must do _somezting_."

Peggy shifted the rifle in her arms. "Escape with me. With us. Work with the SSR in the United States to stop him. You created the serum, but you could find something to undo it. Something to kill him."

His chin trembled and he looked to the ceiling for answers.

A resounding explosion from outside vibrated the rock walls of the castle.

"I vill- _promise me_\- we will kill him."

Peggy nodded hard. "We'll kill him when the time comes. We _will_ get him."

Dr. Erskine nodded and stood up from his knees. "Then we must go. He can not be allowed to capture us."

Another blast from outside sent Hermione stumbling towards the closest wall.

"Our friends have arrived and are distracting Hydra," Peggy said helping Hermione to her feet. "Well, and I drugged most of the men during dinner. Off in a nice sleep for a couple of hours if we're lucky." She poked her head around the corner of the next hallway and then pulled back quickly.

A ricochet of bullets splayed across the wood where her head had been.

She cursed. "I'm not usually very lucky. We'll have to go around."

"They will have blocked the service entrance by now," Dr. Erskine warned.

Peggy grimaced darkly. "You're right."

"How many were there?" Hermione motioned to the hallway.

"Four? Five if they've got someone with ammunition behind them."

Hermione ran through a list of spells in her mind. She could do something.

The Statue of Secrecy was going to be shredded to bits, but Hermione felt as if this was a specific situation that she could legally stand on.

The question was if she could stop several speeding bullets. Or at least slow them down. "Leave it to me," she stated before throwing herself into the hallway, pointing her wand at the end of the hall, and shouting, "_Arresto Momentum Durar_!"

Dozens of bullets cut through the air and made their way to Hermione, but much slower than normal. It was as if she was watching a muggle film with a 'slow-mo camera' as her mother had called it. They were in motion, but at a much slower speed.

The four Hydra men at the end of the hall also seemed to be affected by her spell as they were moving at a lesser speed too, pulling their triggers and trying to shout in a completely different time sequence at each other.

Hermione stepped to the side of the speeding bullets and ran towards the end of the hall. She threw several stunners and watched as they fell at a turtle's pace into unconsciousness and to the floor.

Four bodies hit the marble before she made it to the end of the hall and Hermione grinned. "You can come out! I've got them-"

A fifth man from beyond the turn of the hallway stepped out behind his spelled comrades. He was young, Hermione noticed. Less than twenty years old, dressed from head to toe in Hydra's black uniform and very pale. Like he was just as surprised to see her as she was of him.

Too shocked to move, Hermione watched as the young man raised his gun with a shaky arm and pulled the trigger.

_Five if they've got ammunition behind them_, Peggy had said.

Hermione didn't feel the pain of the machine gun fire as it hit her side. She felt a sudden impact of no sensation, then a burning hot sort of flash spread from her waist to upper thigh like she had been poked repeatedly with a hot coal.

Hermione's mind couldn't process that she had been shot as in the next moment, she watched as a bullet bit through and exited the side of the young man's head. Hermione turned and saw Peggy lower her weapon with Erskine behind her. They both started running towards her.

Hermione looked back at the young man and studied his prone body in haze of numb realization. She hadn't seen a man killed in front of her so deliberately since the Battle of Hogwarts over ten years ago.

Peggy and Dr. Erskine had reached her and the doctor made to pull at her dress's damp material covering her right side.

"She's in shock," Dr. Erskine said looking between both of Hermione's eyes.

"Shock is probably my friend right now," Hermione answered, wanting to hold her injured side. A horrible itching sensation was starting to crawl across her body.

"Can you move?" Peggy asked, looking down the next hall before coming back to Hermione.

She stared back at the agent seriously. "I have to," Hermione answered. "_We_ have to, hold on." Hermione pointed her wand at her side. "_Vulnera Sanentur,"_ she muttered and soft warm feeling spread from her side.

She held the spell for only a couple of seconds before letting the magic go and lowering her wand. The most powerful healing spell she knew. "That'll have to do for now. I'm not a doctor, but it should stop the major bleeding."

Peggy nodded once completely accepting her word and started towards the next section of the castle. Dr. Erskine and Hermione followed silently, and she pointed to her side again whispering, "_Obtorpescere_," to numb the pain she knew she would start feeling very soon.

"What you are holding, Is that-?" Dr. Erskine asked lowly.

"Later," Peggy interrupted, rushing them through a room filled with enormous paintings.

"I'll tell you when we get off the plane," Hermione smiled. Statue of Secrecy be damned. They were living in a life or death situation.

Peggy came to a large metal door with thin windows on each side that showed the late night air. Another '_BOOM_' rocked the ground and illuminated the outside landscape in fiery definition.

"We're here," Peggy said, reaching for the door. She tried the handle, but it wouldn't turn. She tried to kick the metal door, but it wouldn't budge.

Hermione used _Alohamora_ under her breath, but still the metal door wouldn't move.

Hermione grimaced. "Stand back, this could get messy."

Peggy back-peddled and dragged the doctor with her.

Hermione flicked her wand upwards and silently cast _Confringo_. The door blew outwards with a '_BANG_' in strips of exploding metal and Hermione led the others into the night air.

Hermione realized that they were exiting from the left side of the castle and the explosions and machine gun fire were coming from directly across the other side of the property. It was an enormous diversion.

Peggy took the lead from there and led them through a wide and unoccupied field. Guard towers were abandoned and its bright spotlights were left still on, illuminating the empty terrain. Peggy briskly led them in a faster pace far through the never ending field until the castle was a dim glow behind them.

They came upon a small stretch of thick trees and Peggy shouted into the night. "Stark! Call back the men, we've got the Olive Branch. I repeat we've got the Olive Branch!"

A smartly dressed man stood away from the shadows of a looming tree and Hermione nearly jumped at his sudden appearance.

She stopped just behind Peggy with Dr. Erskine and clutched her side. The numbing charm she had spelled onto herself had disappeared somewhere half way through their jog across the meadow and she could feel the blood she was losing on her dress and down her legs.

Dr. Erskine held a hand out to Hermione on her shoulder, and she found that the dizziness she was feeling through her rapid shallow breaths was causing her to lean forwards dangerously.

"We need an examination room!" Dr. Erskine called to the new man. "Now!"

Peggy put one of Hermione's arms around her shoulder and their small group limped through the shadows to a grounded Armstrong Whitworth A.W.41 Albemarle, a plane model Hermione recognized from her father's obsession with WWII bombers. The normally army green plane was painted black and sat undetected on the ground.

'Stark', the man from the shadows, saw the blood on Hermione's dress and jumped forwards. "Christ! What happened to her?"

"She was shot," Dr. Erskine bit out sardonically.

Stark placed an arm behind Hermione's shoulder blades and under her knees and lifted her cleanly from the ground. Her head rolled against his shoulder and the world spun before her eyes. She was too tired to be sick at the movement.

"Come on, I've got her," Stark said.

"There should be something to lay her down on in the back," Hermione heard Peggy advise.

There was a rustling of feet against grass, the mechanical shifting of gears and levers, the thump of footsteps on metal, and then she felt her back being laid down on taunt cloth. She looked up at a metal ceiling, and felt her head tip to the side uselessly. Merlin she was getting so tired.

"If we do nothing she will fall into hypovolemic shock before we cross into the next country," Dr. Erskine warned sounding very close to Hermione. She felt a warm hand across her forehead. "Ve must hurry."

"Stark, take us up. I've got to make contact with Colonel Phillips." Peggy sounded farther away than Dr. Erskine.

"Dr. Ersk-" Hermione started and a wave of dizziness hit her when she felt the plane move. "Dr.-"

"Do not try to speak Hermione. And do not fall asleep. You will live. I promise."

Hermione felt the ghost of a smile cross over her face. So determined. "Thank you- Doctor."

"You may call me Abraham _klein_ time traveler."

Hermione saw the black haze of unconsciousness flicker around the corners of her eyes. "...Abraham then." A wheezy breath Hermione came to recognize as her own coughed out weakly. "Take this," she held out her own wand. "Don't let anyone take it from you."

Dr. Erskine held onto the thin piece of wood and tucked it into his doctors jacket. "You will have it back when you wake."

Hermione smiled and the darkness closed in. Was she going to die? Without saying goodbye to Harry or Ron or her colleagues or or... Hermione realized she would never tell the people closest in her life that she loved them dearly.

She would say that that had to be her biggest regret.

The last thing she saw was the ceiling of the moving plane and Dr. Erskine's worried face.

* * *

November 19th 1940

Hermione woke to soft sunshine on her skin and the sound of static lined music from an old radio.

She came to slowly as memories and sensations reawakened. She had been shot, she knew, multiple times. In Germany of all places and in the year _1940_. She had physically fought _Nazis._

_She should be dead. _Again.

Her vision cleared and she soon recognized herself to be in a small hospital room or medical area. She was lying on a stainless steel barred bed that had been painted white and had a springy mattress beneath her. She was wrapped in thin white sheets tucked firmly around her lower half. The only color in the otherwise white colored room was the glass vase on top of a rolling tray over her feet that was filled with a cluster of beautiful violet chrysanthemums and vines.

Someone had left them for her. They held her attention for a moment longer before she went looking for her wounds.

She touched the white medical gown on her side and found the edges of bandages wrapped around her torso and upper thighs. She frowned as she couldn't feel any pain.

"Wonder drug Penicillin is," someone announced from the doorway.

Hermione looked up sharply at the intruder and crossed gazes with the 'Stark' man from before.

He was a very handsome man, she decided, taking him in. He was dark haired with deep set blue eyes and had a full bottom lip that settled over a sharp jaw line. He was dressed in a very fine blue three piece suit, checkered tie, and shiny shoes that looked misplaced against the white hospital floors. He dripped with wealth, and had the contentment of a man that had only ever know fine things.

He walked into her little room and held out a hand. "Sorry to barge in, it was my turn to 'check in' and see if you were still gone. My name's Howard by the way. Howard Stark."

Hermione took his hand and pumped it gently. "Hermione Granger. Thank you for flying me out of- well, you know."

He grinned quickly with a devil-may-care attitude. "I heard all about you from Peggy and the new doctor. For a beautiful dame with your kind of moxie? Doll, _anytime_."

Genuine amusement bubbled up from beneath the anxiety and fear that had felt embedded into her bones from the last few days. "Hopefully, not again in the near future?"

He placed his hands in his pockets and leaned on his heels. "Well, when your all healed up in a couple of weeks I'll take you on a plane ride, a _real_ plane ride out to show you the sights. We'll get fondue. It'll be fun," he shrugged.

"Stop flirting, you're supposed to be _checking in_," Peggy announced walking in with her hands behind her back.

"I did! Look, I checked, I confirmed, and now I'm reporting in," he made a mock salute at her. "She's awake and everything."

Peggy sat in a metal seat next to Hermione's bed and crossed her legs. "Very impressive," but Hermione could see the small smile she was biting back.

Without Peggy's maid costume from Castle Kaufmann, Hermione found the Agent Peggy Carter to be much more intimidating. Gone was the pig tailed braids and frills, and instead was an international agent dressed in stockings, a navy blue wool suit of jacket and skirt, and black pumps that made her look ready to kill.

Stark grinned and waved before turning to the door as his way out. "Oh, one thing before I leave," Howard said turning back and going for a pocket in his jacket. He dug around for a couple of seconds. "What exactly is _this_," he asked before showing them all Hermione's wand.

Hermione nearly leapt out of bed. "How did you get that?" she asked instead.

Peggy got to her feet. "Dr. Erskine was-"

"Now hold on ladies, I'm only looking at it, I'll give it back to the good doctor in due time. He was so... I don't know, _protective _of it. Like it was a weapon or something. And frankly, coming from a _weapons specialist_ like myself, it got me curious."

"So you stole it?" Peggy crossed her arms over her chest.

"_Borrowed_ it doll."

"It's mine," Hermione stated and held out her hand. "Now give it over."

Howard looked at Hermione disbelievingly and then to Peggy. Finding no one to support him Howard held the thin piece of wood out to her. "And how do we know it's yours?"

Hermione twirled her wand in her fingers and knew that worst case scenario, she could wipe his mind after this.

"Like this," she announced, and turned her vase of flowers into a tabby cat.

"Holy mother of Christ!" Howard reared back in shock, and then promptly leaned forwards and made to examine the cat. "That's- I mean you just- it _defies_-" he turned to her seriously. "_How_ did you just do that?"

Hermione smiled. "Magic."

He scoffed. "Magic? Really?" He looked to Peggy, and finding no support for the second time, turned his stare to flicker between the both of them uneasily. "I mean that's-" he gestured at the cat who had stepped down from the tray and settled on Hermione's good side. "-impossible?"

Peggy studied the cat as well. "I've come to see a lot of 'impossible' things recently in the last couple days Mr. Stark, and I've come to realize that what we thought as fiction might have always been apart of reality if we only didn't choose to ignore the possibility."

Howard grimaced. "Riddles Miss. Carter? Don't think I didn't catch your innuendo over here," he looked away, "I heard about Schmidt too."

"Then you understand how fast our world is changing. Why we need people like Dr. Erskine, and then people like Hermione."

He frowned at Hermione. "What, Colonel Philips is going to let a _dame_ join? Fight in the war?"

Peggy sat a little straighter. "I did."

He scoffed lightly. "Yeah, but that's _you_." He shrugged at Hermione. "No offense."

"None taken," Hermione replied a little lost in their conversation. It wasn't like she was going to _stay_ here good Merlin. She had to find magical London! Dumbledore, or _someone_ to help her get back to her time! Which then begged the question, "Hang on," Hermione stopped the conversation, "-where are we? What day is it?"

"Right, you don't know," Howard rubbed his hands together. "Well its November 19th, so you've been asleep for 6 days. You had to go into emergency surgery when we'd made it to the safe house, and then we had to transport you here, were we've been waiting for you to wake up. Colonel Philips needs to debrief you."

Hermione had no idea who Colonel Philips was. "And where are we exactly?"

"Another safe house in London."

Hermione motioned to her waist and legs. "And this?"

"You should make a full recovery. You were hit with three bullets, but all had clean exit wounds and nothing major was nicked," Peggy assured her. "Dr. Erskine says that the only lasting damage will be the scars."

The information relieved Hermione. She wasn't sure how far her healing spell had gone, and she didn't wholly trust the 1940's medicine practices on gun shot wounds. She felt as if she was lucky to be alive. "Well then, when can I leave?" Hermione asked inconspicuously.

She also wasn't sure if Howard knew or not that she was from the future, so she kept the information to herself and didn't ask the glaring question out loud. _When will I be well enough to travel back to my own time?_

Peggy though seemed to understand what she was talking about and carried on. "Physically you can get up whenever you feel like you can. When your body is ready, you can stand up or move whenever you'd like. However, Howard is right though, Colonel Philips wants to speak with you before anything else."

Colonel Philip sounded like the man in charge of everything, including Peggy, and Hermione wasn't sure she could talk to him without disrupting the time line even further than Hermione already had.

This left her with very little options.

Hermione pointed her wand to her injured side and focused on the numb skin below her nightgown. "_Vulnera Sanentur,_" she whispered. She poured her energy and concentration into healing the damage to her side and legs. Healing was never a very fast magic, but Hermione only had to do enough to get her on her feet.

She would need to find Hogwarts, or Dumbledore, or _someone_ from the magical world next. She didn't have time to negotiate with Colonels from this time. She needed to get _home._

Hermione dropped her wand after she had layered the spell over her body several times over and she began to feel the rise of sweat on her brow. With the amount of magic she had flooded her body with, her calculations leant to her wound being completed closed, her swelling would be decreased dramatically, and physical exertion would be tolerable.

Which meant she could _leave_.

She met Peggy's eyes seriously when she was done. "Thank you for saving me."

She sat forwards in her bed and found no pain in her side. Whether that was from lingering drugs or Hermione's patchwork, she didn't complain. She flicked her wand and turned the cat back into vase of flowers. "I want to thank the both of you for saving me. You didn't have to take me along and rescue me, but you did."

She met both of the SSR agents eyes. "So thank you. I owe you both a life debt."

Howard nodded seriously and leaned against the hospital wall. "I don't know what that means, but it sounds severe, so your welcome." He shrugged and gave her a smile. "It was only a plane ride doll face."

"But you saved me, and I can't-" Hermione was about to say _leave_ but she stopped herself. "Anyways, again, thank you for your help." She tipped her head at Peggy and palmed her wand. "I won't forget it."

If Hermione had been paying closer attention, she would have noticed Peggy's sharp eyes notice the witch's nervousness and the moment she seemed to grasp her wand tighter. She would have seen her shift her body weight forward for quick movement.

But Hermione didn't notice these tings as she was overcome with the past few days events and her short moment of magical exhaustion.

So as Hermione began to apparate, she didn't watch at Peggy Carter began to lean forwards in her seat, coiled like a spring.

_Determination._

Hermione smiled to her new found rescuers and friends. "And I'll always remember you."

Howard frowned. "What do you mean-"

_Destination_.

Hermione smiled back and closed her eyes. She envisioned Hogwarts, never changing even in the new decade she was in. "-mean you'll always rememb-"

_Deliberation_.

Peggy launched herself forwards, taking Hermione by the arm as Hermione was sucked into an event horizon through the blackness.

They were pressed very hard from all directions, unbreathing as if there were iron bands tightening around their chests. Their eyeballs felt as if they were being forced back into their heads and their ear-drums were being pushed deeper into their skulls.

The pressure vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared, and Hermione ripped herself away from the hand on her arm.

"Oh my- oh my _god_," stuttered the other woman.

* * *

November 19th 1940

Howard gaped at the suddenly empty bed and and then at the empty seat beside it.

They had both disappeared. Right in the middle of his sentence.

Howard rapidly back peddled out of Hermione's room and started to sprint as fast as he could to the only person who would know what to do with _magic_, a questionable flower vase, and disappearing agents. Towards Colonel Philip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song Link: [Wicked - For Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y8YMfgu92hQ)


	4. Ebbets Field

* * *

"I'm still moving cities, And I'm still causin' storms,  
I don't know if you know this, But when I shoot I score  
Took this pain inside of me, Turned it into gold  
I made this exothermic  
Now watch my heart explode"

\- Fauzia, 'Exothermic'

* * *

* * *

  
November 19th 1940

The cold Scottish air ripped through Hermione's hair as she staggered away from the death grip on her medical gown.

Peggy let Hermione go and braced her hands on her knees. She dry-heaved painfully a few times and then took a shuddering breath in. Watered eyes took in the grassy landscape and dull autumn sun. "Where- what did you do?"

Hermione couldn't help but notice that the glade she had landed them in was unfamiliar. She had meant to be near Hogsmeade, but had lost concentration when she'd felt Peggy grab her. She hoped because of that she hadn't pushed them _too_ far off course.

Although, perhaps she should just feel lucky she hadn't been splinched or splinched Peggy on the way over.

"It's called apparation," Hermione said taking pity on the agent who slowly looked to start feeling better and standing up straight. "It's how wizards and witches can travel instantly over long distances."

Hermione transfigured her medical robe into a pair of jeans and a thick jumper as Peggy made her way back. It did well to limit the impact of the striking winds, but little to the cold that was just as forceful. Hermione added warming charms over her jumper and then indistinctly threw some to Peggy as well to curb her shudders.

Peggy eyed her seriously. "Is that what you call yourself? A witch?"

Hermione huffed a black humored laugh. "Yes. Broomsticks, potions, crystal balls and all."

"And there's others?"

Hermione wondered if she honestly should be telling the entirety of everything to a muggle. Especially one from the past. "There's nations worth."

Peggy frowned, leaning on the back on her black pumps. "We would have known about you."

Hermione tossed her curls away from the strong Scottish wind again. "Intelligence agencies can find other muggles yes, but unless a witch or wizard wants to be found, you won't find them." Hermione shrugged, "At least not with your current technology." In the future it was a little different with satellite pictures, cellphones, and CTV cameras.

"Muggle?"

"Ah, non-magical," Hermione explained. "And that's why I'm here. Why I had to go. I _need_ to find my people to help me get back."

Peggy nodded. "Hence the-" she waved her hand shallowly in a circle which Hermione took as her least favorite way to travel.

"Hence the apparation yes. I couldn't have stayed and talked to Colonel Philips and waste more time. The longer I'm here the more ways the future could change."

Sharp eyes caught her. "Changing it would be bad?"

Hermione nodded. "For _you_ right now yes." Lessons pounded into her head from the first day of Unspeakables training demanded her silence. Revealing the future was _dangerous_. But-

"It'll be horrible, this war. However ... eventually, we do win."

Peggy's frown got deeper.

"But if I change things now, it could change my time and me. This war will start a chain of reactions throughout the rest of the world and create the next generations of culture and laws. I can't risk tipping the scales and letting it affect the entirety of the timeline. _Terrible_ things could happen."

Hermione had already revealed so much.

Peggy took a deep breath and let the winds take it away. "So then what do we do for you?"

"Well we can't go back now," Hermione grimaced. "They'll have people everywhere and I can't take us outside of the building because I can't apparate to a place I've never been."

"Are we still in Europe at least?" Peggy asked.

Hermione nodded. "Scotland."

Peggy's lips parted in disbelief. "We traveled over 615 kilometers?"

"This is much farther than I normally travel through apparation, as there's a risk of hurting one of us at such distances, especially with side-along, but yes."

Peggy blinked the amazement away. "Well there should be an SOE underground station somewhere here where I can find some old contacts. You can take me there when you're sure you've found a way home."

Hermione was silently amazed that the woman before her was willing to wait and see where this was going to take her. _She_ wasn't even sure how this was going to go.

"We should start walking if we're going to find the people I'm looking for," Hermione said instead, and started moving up the glade they were on. If she could find a vantage point she could figure out how far away she was from Hogwarts.

As they started to trudge their way up against the Scotland wind and her newest injuries on her side started to twinge from the excessive movements, a part of their prior conversation began to ring in her ears. "What's SOE? You spoke of it like it's an organization you know."

Peggy furrowed her eyebrows. "It's the Special Operations Executive. A new war division spearheaded by Winston Churchill himself. It's not a classified agency. The public has been made fully aware of its existence since the start." She tipped her head. "You say you've studied this war in your education from your time?"

"Self taught," Hermione agreed, and slightly offended at the thought of a lessened education. "But I'm very thorough when it comes to an interesting subject and-" Hermione shook her head, running through hundreds of snippets of information in her head, "- I'm sure I've never heard of it. Or Hydra for that matter."

Peggy looked astonished. "You've never heard of Hydra?" she echoed. "Well- Well what about _Nazis_? Have you heard of them, or what they preach, or the invasion of Austria, Czechoslovakia, and then Poland after appeasement failed?"

They were nearly to the top and Hermione turned around to Peggy indignantly. She had a mastery in the _History_ of Magic and it included all of the muggle world's major world events. "Of course I have!" Hermione said. "I know both the muggle and wizarding events of World War Two including the invasion of Poland, the method of _blitzkrieg,_ the attack on Pearl Harbor, Midway, the Invasion of Ital-" Hermione threw a hand over her lips.

Peggy's porcelain skin seemed without color. She recoiled, aghast with uneasy astonishment. "They make it to Italy?"

Hermione wished she could say that she couldn't commiserate with the horror on her face, but she knew the future and what it would bring. She knew the weapons of war the muggle world would create and the agonizing deaths that would come to be known. This war was going to last _years_ and over _85 million_ people would end up dying by the end of it.

"You will win," was all Hermione could say uselessly. But the cost would be enormous.

Anxious concern was plain on Peggy's face. "How much farther?"

Hermione let the conversation go and led them over the crest of the hill. From her vantage point she was able to see over the majority of the countryside below.

Hermione's heart stopped.

Below her was a small village where she was certain Hogsmeade should have been, but it looked nothing like the wizarding town she knew and loved. It was clearly muggle, with stone walls and wooden fences, typical for the muggle housing of this period, and she was certain that if she stepped foot in one of those homes she would find a phonograph and telephones rather than a set of self knitting needles and charmed mops.

Looking to the east and past the Black Lake, Hermione should have been able to see the spiral belfry of the Astronomy Tower, thousands of glinting windows against the sun, and the great stone corridors from her memories. Instead, she saw concave and forgotten ceilings, moss and ivy ridden crumbling foundations, and a wildness surrounding the stones that only came from abandoning a once magnificent castle.

Her heart nearly broke at the sight.

"No!" was all she could croak out before she grabbed Peggy's hand and they spun on the spot.

Hermione exited the apparation on shaky knees looking up from the base of her once mighty home. It was clear no one had lived in the acropolis of her childhood for decades, if not hundreds of years.

Peggy dry-heaved on her knees again, but Hermione could focus on nothing but the decaying monument.

If she pressed into herself and dug down to her magical core, she could feel no other magical vibrations around her. Not the ground, nor the walls, or the plants, or even in the air. _Nothing_ about the castle she stood in front of was magical.

A trickle of suspicion in the back of her mind turned into a cascade of doubt, fear, and unmistakable regret that drowned out her other senses. She fell to her knees.

Pieces of information Hermione had blatantly ignored started to piece themselves together. Dr. Erskine and Peggy shocked faces when she told them she hadn't heard of Hydra. Peggy speaking of a publicly well known government that she had never heard of, or read about before in all of her research. Hogsmeade not being a village for wizards and witches, but for _muggles_ and the fact that there was not an _ounce_ of magic to be found on the grounds where Hogwarts should be. Where Hogwarts had always stood.

Hermione slowly came to realize that she wasn't just nearly 70 years back in time, she was in a different _universe_.

She had no training, knowledge, or methods to apply that could help her as she had never thought to study the theories of such an inscrutable line of magic, such a line of _theory_. And she now knew that if Hogwarts didn't exist, there was a very _very_ high probability that magic did not exist in this world at all as it did in hers.

She was never going to be able to go home.

She was utterly alone.

"Hermione?" a cold hand pressed lightly against her shoulder, and she found herself looking into the concerned eyes of Peggy. "Are you alright?"

"I'm-" Hermione was nearly at the point of tears. She could not hypothesize, or formulate a plan of action on this. She had no information, no research she could study or compare from. "I'm think I'm lost," she whispered.

Peggy looked to the crumbling castle. "Do you know this place?"

Hermione choked. "It's- was home."

"Was it restored in your time? Or-"

"No. It has never looked like this before. Not after the war, not after a thousand years has it ever stood in this decay."

Peggy looked more confused. "The war?" she asked, "A thousand years?" Her gaze covered the crumbling stone before them. "What do you mean?"

Hermione got to her feet. Her mind was reeling from the shock of her discovery, and she didn't know how or where to take her next step.

She found her lips moving on their own accord, divulging information like she would from a textbook. "Where I'm from, I touched something I shouldn't have. It was pure energy and quite frankly, by all rights, it should have killed me. Instead, I thought that it had just taken me back in time. An unlikely impossibility in itself, but manageable."

Peggy looked even more confused. "But it didn't?"

"No," Hermione shook her head. "because I've traveled to an entirely different dimension."

It was like puzzle pieces were starting to fall into place for Peggy as well. "That's - Your missing knowledge."

Hermione nodded sadly. "This whole time I've been trying to not say too much, or do anything that could disrupt the timeline because I didn't want it to affect _my_ present."

Peggy nodded, understanding. "And, in this future?" Peggy asked unsure.

Hermione breathed out. "Theoretically, the same rules should still apply. I am affecting things in this future just by being here."

Peggy followed her gaze. "So?"

"Our worlds seem to be very similar. We have the same countries, the same languages- the same wars. I know things in this future that could still affect this timeline, but not my time, because it isn't _mine_. It won't affect me, because I might not even exist in this future."

Peggy blinked. "Well alright I guess that does make a sort of sense if you squint at it."

"But I have no idea how to get back," Hermione confessed, "or if that's even a possibility now. Everything that I thought I had, I don't. I have nothing here." 

Peggy studied the sad reflection of Hogwarts before coming back to her. "Well that's not entirely true. You do have a _very_ worried German Doctor waiting for you back at base, and a Colonel who is probably _dying_ to meet you by now." She put her hand on Hermione's shoulder. "And me. I know what it's like to be in a world that seems unmade for you. If you want, you would also have me."

It was an invitation, and she found herself looking into round hazel eyes.

Doubts flicked through her mind. "You want knowledge of the future."

Peggy didn't flinch or look away. "Whatever helps us win before it gets as bad as you say it's going to, I will take advantage of."

Hermione smiled sadly. "Time is tricky. What you hope to accomplish could be destroyed by your motivation to change what has to happen."

Peggy blinked. "I thought you said you hadn't time traveled before this?"

"Oh no, I most _certainly_ have. I just have never been in _this_ sort of time situation before. I studied time travel as part of a course to earn my mastery."

Peggy raised an intrigued eyebrow. "You have a mastery in a subject?"

Hermione suddenly had a very rude awakening as to what year it was. "I have several actually. Not that many of them would help me here in this world."

She huffed. "Well," Peggy released her shoulder and they stood to their feet together. She smiled coyly, "I don't know about that."

* * *

May 25th 1941

Hermione's heels clicked against the sidewalk as she made her way inside Ebbets Field, a massive major league baseball stadium in Brooklyn, and turned up her collar against the chilled New York wind. She settled her navy blue tam-o-shanters hat further down her head and tighter through the pins around her heated curls so it wouldn't blow away, and then tucked her gloved hands into her matching blue overcoat that reached to the bottom of her knees.

She passed a vendor yelling his wares of salted peanuts and Coca Cola for the extravagant price of 10 cents for the pair, and Hermione slipped a pleasant red lipped smile at him but shook her head.

Today was the first day that Hermione was allowed out of the lab that she and Abraham shared in downtown New York in the last four months. Named as Dr. Erskine's senior secretary in the SSR, Hermione worked everything that the Doctor did, nearly a shadow behind the brilliant man, and as his work load grew with the demands of the war, so did the days that passed Hermione by like a flash.

It had been six months since the discovery of Hermione's circumstances in Scotland, and while she still mourned for the loss of her old life and friends, she was fitting nicely into the one she had stumbled into.

Immediately after the return to the SSR base in London from Scotland, Hermione had met with Colonel Philips, an older American man with intense brown eyes and a no nonsense attitude. She had explained her story and showed him her magic, and after he had assessed her, she was listed as an 'asset' to the SSR.

Abraham had taken control of her integration into the decade as his senior assistant when they relocated to New York, letting her use her past experience with arithmancy and science to help his work while Peggy had taken Hermione under her wing with the culture, the dress, and the presence of a working woman in the 1940's. Both had helped her adapt to the new era she was in, but Peggy's lessons had been the many that she'd struggled with.

Women in the 1940s dressed modestly, but well. Hermione had learned that it was important for a woman to look her best even at her worst through Peggy as it was a defense against negative sexist behavior and a cultural understanding between women. She had learned through Peggy what Padma and Lavender had failed to in Hogwarts with their snide comments of makeup, clothes, and hair products. How to look like a lady.

She wasn't a master by any stretch of the imagination, but she could pass as a very well put together _dame_ as the men here said. She collected the right shades of lipstick for her skin, the correct cuts and color of clothes for her height and frame, the right shoes for comfortability but style, and the right hair products to master her curls Peggy had called, 'a pin up's dream'.

And while Peggy had been teaching her the ways of beauty that had never interested Hermione before now, Peggy also helped teach her how to physically defend herself. "You won't always have time to grab your wand," Peggy had said when teaching her a combo for flipping a man twice her size over her shoulder. "Sometimes you won't _want_ to draw your wand," she said when she taught her how to properly kick someone without losing her balance.

Between working formally for Abraham, informally with Peggy, and reading everything she could find related to time and dimensional travel, Hermione had very little time for personal things, like wondering how her old friends were doing and if she'd ever see them again.

Hermione was also asked to debrief monthly on the status of the 'serum' she had been roped into helping work on with Philips and was occasionally asked a deliberately vague question to the future. According to Peggy, Philips kept Hermione's secret of time traveling between just Abraham, Hermione, Peggy and himself as he didn't trust the 'bureaucrats' above his station with the responsibility of the future.

Hermione knew he was cautious of using anything she said, for if he moved on any of her information, it could change the outcome of the war, and Hermione couldn't agree more.

Hermione look hold of the paper ticket from the plain leather purse slung over her shoulder and gave it to the admissions office at the entrance of the baseball stadium. Hermione had never been to a baseball game in her life, even in her old world, and she was lost as how to navigate the stands and crowds.

Peggy was supposed to meet Hermione before the game started, but that depended entirely on whether or not she could leave the office without someone needing her help. Based on the past six months of knowing her friend, she very much doubted Peggy would be able to show up, and Hermione already knew she would have to see the game by herself.

The idea would have been a laughable one to Hermione six months earlier as the only professional game she'd ever been to was Quidditch before her fourth year and she didn't even _like_ sports. But Peggy had suggested that she try to do something out of her normal comfort zone and Hermione felt that this was as far as she could go. There wasn't a book or library in sight. On the other hand, at least she was out of the lab like Abraham wanted and outside doing something other than working theorems for the serum.

Hermione looked at the paper ticket closely. "House Two, Stand Two," Hermione read aloud. She looked up and squinted at the signs around her. Maybe she could ask someone?

Families and couples passed by Hermione without help, no one looked as if they worked for the stadium and Hermione looked down at her ticket with growing frustration. What was the point of a ticket with seats printed if you couldn't even find where your seat's meant to be?

"Excuse me ma'am, do you need help?" someone asked from behind her.

Hermione turned and found herself nearly eyesight with a blonde, thin, man about her age. He was slightly shorter than her to Hermione's surprise, two inches from Hermione's 168 centimetres or 5'6 frame in American standards, but looked painfully thin, as if one good push of the wind would knock him over.

Hermione got caught for a moment in his bright blue eyes and couldn't seem to find the words to answer. She flushed. "Sorry, yes, _yes_ I'd like someone to help. I've never been to this before and I don't know where I'm supposed to be."

The man nodded kindly and offered his hand. "Sounds like it from your uh, well, I mean your accent. I can take a look for you if you'd like? Your ticket I mean."

Hermione handed her ticket over to the man without thought.

"House Two, Stand Two. You've got really good seats," he handed the ticket back to her. "You'll be so close you'll probably feel Pistol Pete hit the bat when he slams a runner." He paused and a red flush swept over his face as he palmed the back of his neck in embarrassment. "I mean that's probably- sorry."

Hermione smiled and a small feeling of relief swept through her. "I honestly have no idea what you just said." He looked even more embarrassed than before and Hermione held out her hands awkwardly. "And not to say that it's your fault, because I know it's mine in this. I've never been to a baseball game before so I'm not sure what anything is, and surely not a 'runner'."

A shy grin made up his face instead of the embarrassment. "I meant a _home run_. A 'runner' if you listen and watch enough baseball."

"And do you?"

He shrugged. "Every chance that I get. The Dodgers are my favorite."

The smell of popcorn, hot dogs and peanuts seemed far away as Hermione smiled at the kind stranger. He was unlike any man she had met yet in this time, and his genuine honesty not only from his words, but from his open body language lit something close to wild Gryffindor bravery in her heart, something she hadn't felt since she'd left Hogwarts. Hermione stuck out her hand. "I didn't get a chance to introduce myself, but my name is Hermione Granger."

The man looked surprised for a moment by her hand, before he shook back lightly with a solid grip. "Steven Rogers, but my friends call me Steve."

They released each others hands and Hermione smiled again. "Well Steve, I have an extra ticket today, and I need a translator to tell me what's going on during the game." Nerves shot through her, and doubts filled her mind. "Um, obviously I know you've already got a seat as you're _in_ here-" Embarrassment washed over Hermione and she thought frantically. "-and, honestly, you're probably already sitting with others-"

"No! I uh, actually come here by myself all the time," Steve shrugged, saving her from her bumbling words.

"Oh, well then in that case, would you like to join me?" she asked, trying to stomp down her anxiety and nervousness. _Merlin was she a teenager? _"Fair warning, I can't promise that I won't ask too many questions, I've heard it's one of my greatest faults."

Steve rubbed the back of his head and laughed like he thought she was joking. "Well, I guess I don't know why you'd ask help from a guy like me if you were a beautiful dame." His eyes widened. "Or a bea- a woman. A _lady._" He emphasized, "Not a dame." He stepped closer. "I mean you _are_ beautiful- bu-"

Hermione's laugh came without permission. "You-" she smiled at him, "-you've no idea how to talk to a woman do you?" _Not that I'm doing much better._

He tipped his head and smiled self-deprecatingly. "I think this is the longest conversation I've had with one."

She smiled gently, and all of the turbulent feelings fell away. "Well I guess today will be a day of firsts for us." She blinked at her own boldness. "If- if that is something you'd be okay with?"

Steve flushed again. "Bucky would bust my chops if I ever told him a dame asked me for help and I said no, not- not that I'd _not_ want to. I'll go."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Oh good."

Steve smiled lightly and put his hands in his too big trousers.

Hermione dug in her purse and gave Steve the other ticket. "Well here. Not that it matters much since we're already in, but it's yours. For memories sake."

Steve accepted the ticket with a soft smile and pocketed in easily. "We better go find our seats before the national anthem."

Hermione nodded. "I'll follow after you."

* * *

Later in the Day, May 25th 1941

_"There's a pitch, it's a ball high outside."_

Hermione grinned as Steve slightly fist pumped the air at the announcers play-by-play.

"All Reiser's gotta do is send em' home," he said to her, shaking his blonde hair and leaning his elbows forwards on his knees anxiously.

_"Just an absolutely gorgeous day here at Ebbets Field."_

Hermione scanned the field of men just beyond the fence in front of them that separated her and Steve from the players. It was at the bottom of the sixth of nine innings and _Pistol Pete_ was up at bat with what Steve had called a '2-2-2'. Which meant the Dodgers batter was at two balls, two strikes, and two outs.

Pete's next play would either lead the Dodgers into a lead, or let the Philadelphia Phillies keep their tie score into the next inning.

It was all very exciting, and with help from Steve's knowledge and sharp eyes, Hermione felt emotionally attached to the players and their outcomes as she had never before. The only close comparison would have been with Ron or Harry playing Quidditch in her school years when they'd almost die during the games.

"_Philly's have managed to tie it up four to four, b__ut the Dodgers have three men on."_

Hermione looked to Steve and he smiled still a little shyly back at her.

"Come on Petey take em' all home! Lets go!" Someone from behind them bellowed into the field and the stands erupted into cheers.

"Pistol Pete!"

"Pistol Pete!"

"Pistol Pete!"

_"He leans in, here's the pitch, swing on- Oh it's a line drive right down the right field!"_

Hermione, Steve, and the crowds around them jumped to their feet. Whooping and cheering started to swell across the stands.

"_It gets past Grissom-,"_ the announcer said as Hermione tracked the movement of the game anxiously.

_"And there- Rizzo's in, he scores! He's followed in on heels by Medwick and Reeses as Reiser heads to third!_

Hermione watched the batter that had started on the first base of the play slide into home and she smiled wildly.

"_Etten's brings the ball back up from the outfield and- Reiser's gonna try and make it!_"

"Oh Merlin-" Hermione said, her heart in her throat.

"Run Pete _RUN_," came the echoing frantic shrieks of the crowds.

Etten from the Phillies threw the baseball like a missile as Pistol Pete dove for home.

Dust and dirt from Pete's home slide were like smoke in the air as the catchers mitt came down.

Hermione's eyes widened. It was too close to call!

"_Oh my God-"_

The umpire behind the catcher made a hand movement and people broke into ecstatic cheers and their applause thundered over the field.

"_I can't believe it folks, it's safe! The Dodgers take the lead, it's eight to four. Oh ho, Dodgers!"_

Hermione gasped and cheered as enthusiastically as everyone else around her and turned to Steve with her flushed cheeks and bright eyes.

Steve was laughing at the infectious euphoria in the air and smiled back at her. For the first time in the past hour and a half they'd known each other, Hermione thought that it was the first genuinely happy smile she'd seen on him, and it reminded her of sunshine. Like its' ribbons in the sky, it was warm, dazzling in it's own light, uncaged, and golden. It amazed her.

When the game had ended two innings later with the same score, Hermione and Steve walked together to the front of the stadium where Hermione would catch a cab.

"Well, I guess I'm officially a Dodgers fan," Hermione said waving down a driver before turning to him.

Steve put his hands in his pockets and smiled his distinctively shy smile that Hermione was getting used to. "I'm sure you'll be a pro in no time."

"Oh I don't know," Hermione dared, feeling brave after the wonderful time she'd had, "I feel as though I'm going to need to do this with my translator more often to become a pro."

Steve's jaw dropped.

Hermione fixed her hat to her head again. "Soon?"

"Well- the season ends in September."

"I expect we'll see each other before then." The cab stopped behind Hermione and she turned to open the door. She paused before she went to slide in and met his eyes. "I can't promise that I'll be around very often though. I live in lower Manhattan and I'm a full working women."

To Hermione's great pleasure, Steve didn't immediately ask if she was a secretary. "Could I write to you?"

Hermione dug in her purse for a scrap of paper and a pen. She wrote down the apartment number she was staying in with Peggy and Steve neared to retrieve it. When she handed it to him, Steve held it in wonder.

Hermione gave one last glance at Ebbets Field. "Thank you Steve," she said and his head snapped up. "For today. I was alone and in a place I had never been before and you were the only one who stopped to help."

Steve blushed. "Someone would have stopped for you Hermione, I think I was just the closest."

"But no one could have been a better friend than you were to a complete stranger, and it's made my whole day just- wonderful." She sighed, "So thank you. Promise to write?"

Steve nodded and held the door open for her as she sat in the back of the cab. She settled herself and then waved to him. "Good bye Steve," she smiled.

"Good bye Hermione," he smiled back and closed the door gently between them.

As the cab driver took her away from the baseball field, Hermione slid back in her chair and smiled happily to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anyone recognize the Ebbets Field reference from Captain America: First Avenger?  
Happy Holidays!
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Faouzia - Exothermic](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSl63ffUnVM)


	5. Bucky Barnes and A Birthday

* * *

"Haven't felt like this, my dear, Since can't remember when  
It's been a long, long time"

\- Harry James, 'It's been a Long Long Time'

* * *

* * *

July 4th 1941

Time passed after Hermione's trip to Ebbets Field and her chance meeting with Steve Rogers.

Four days after their shared baseball game, Hermione received her first letter from her newest friend. Soon after, they both began a habit of swapping sheets of information about themselves as soon as the post had arrived.

The weeks passed and Hermione only saw Steve twice after their original meeting. The most recent meeting had been another baseball game at Ebbets Field, but the time before that had just been a small luncheon between the two with a lengthy discussion of art, the origin of the baseball, and Hermione's favorite blends of tea.

Through conversation both face to face and through letters, they never intentionally spoke of their past. Hermione figured, never boldly asking, that Steve's parents had both passed at some point as he had no other obvious family he lived with or was close to. He did have a current roommate and best friend 'Bucky' however, and Hermione knew that he considered his friend like family as Hermione had considered Harry, and then later Ron, her brothers.

Steve probably thought she had lost _her_ family at some point in the War as well. They were carefully becoming closer friends, but Hermione knew that she would have to figure out some sort of backstory soon if she really was going to spend the rest of her life, and continue to build relationships, here in this decade.

But besides their separate histories, there was no end to the things she learned when she conversed with her newest friend. Every time she finished reading or writing a letter back, Hermione felt a little less lonely and a little less homesick.

During that time, Hermione and Dr. Erskine mourned the passing birthday of his youngest child together, and later celebrated a small success in a stimulant formula regarding manipulation in _myosatellite cells_, otherwise known to Hermione as muscle stem cells for the '_Super Soldier Formula_' as Peggy was beginning to call it.

Animal testing would begin soon, and then after that, Colonel Phillips would be choosing a select candidate to become the first experimental soldier for the formula.

Currently, Hermione wrapped a brown fabric and brass fitted airplane luggage container carefully around with shiny blue wrapping paper that was dotted with little white and red stars.

In one of her most previous letters from Steve, he had mentioned that his birthday was approaching. Filled with the new information, Hermione had immediately set off to find a suitable present for her newest friend. She smiled when she had noticed his birthday was on the same day as America's date of independence, as she found the coincidence to be very fitting.

Despite Steve's short stature, Hermione had soon found during their months of correspondence that her friend had an enormous heart, a fierce sense of justice, and an unbending nature in what he thought was _t__he right thing to do_. He was also exceptionally honest, loyal to a fault, and very observant despite his weak eyesight.

In some of these recurring aspects, Steve reminded her of Harry.

Shaking off the familiar sorrow that came with memories of her old life, Hermione smiled down at one of the two gifts she had bought Steve; a Royal Portable Typewriter. A new black finished typewriter that was outfitted in a brown and brass luggage case that had grooves on the lid of the case so that the typewriter couldn't fall out, even if the case was open. Though it was not the first thing a turning 23 year old wanted, Hermione knew, it was something that she thought Steve could use for his odd ended jobs around New York. He often found work with newspapers or small offices with assistant positions, and Hermione hoped her gift would help him grow those opportunities while keeping him out of the open weather of the often harsh seasons in New York.

Another thing that Hermione had learned about her friend was that although his spirit was powerful and enduring, his physical body was not. He broke bones easily, got sick often, and was always slowly healing from one scrape or another that he had narrowly gotten out of.

Hermione hoped that with her new birthday present to him, he would be able to stay indoors at a nice office somewhere and stay out of trouble or sickness for more than two weeks at a time.

A very _high _hope, she knew grudgingly, as the man seemed to be in the middle of _something_ every time they exchanged letters or got the chance to meet. The last time she had seen him for example, was less than a month ago for another baseball game at Gibbons field and Steve had been sporting a black eye, a split lip, and a small limp through his left leg.

She sighed in exasperation at the memory and placed a bright red bow on top of her newly wrapped gift carefully. Hermione critiqued her work, slowly turning the present around on all sides before turning to leave by pulling on her stockings and shoes and then running to fetch a hat and Steve's second smaller gift that had already been wrapped with the same paper.

Hermione hadn't told Steve that she would be giving him gifts for his birthday, or that she would be visiting him at all today. It was all a surprise that she had been setting up for the past few weeks and was anxious to see his face when she arrived at his apartment for the very first time. Not that Hermione was the type to barge in unannounced, but she felt that this kind of surprise would be forgiven.

She released the curlers from her hair, set them, and then pinned her summer sun hat to the back of her head. She retrieved the matching purse to her light colored summer dress, and pressed lipstick to her lips before she took hold of the two presents and left her room.

Peggy was surprisingly home when she entered the living area. She smiled at her and nodded at the gifts. "To Steve's?" she asked knowingly although she had never met the man.

Hermione smiled back. "I'll be home this afternoon when I'm done."

Peggy waved her off and returned to the file on the armchair she sat on. "Have fun."

Hermione waved as she closed the front door behind her and made her way to the first floor. She hailed a cab almost as soon as she had placed her foot on the edge of the street and arrived in front of Steve's apartment building a little more than half an hour later.

Steve's apartment was on the rundown side of Brooklyn. There were parts of the main street that were paved unevenly, the paint on the buildings hadn't seen a finish in over a decade, and the buildings were all squished together like they were trying to hold as many people inside with as little room as physically able.

Hermione made her way up to one of the decaying apartment buildings, blatantly ignoring the side eyes and curious looks from passersbys at her matching dress, purse, and shiny shoes.

She found the stairs and took them to the third floor and began her hunt for Steve's door. After a wrong hallway and a few left turns later, Hermione found apartment number 387. Steve's apartment based off of their letters.

Hermione exchanged the presents in her hands to one arm and knocked sharply on the door several times.

There was a curse from inside the apartment and the sound of stumbling feet. Hermione barely had time to lower her hand before the door was thrown backwards and a tall man with dark hair stepped into view.

He was handsome, Hermione immediately noticed. His short dark hair fell in soft waves around his temples, with bright cerulean eyes surrounded by a set of thick lashes and a jawline made from a Greek statue. He was broad shouldered and at least 187 centimeters, or 6'2 in the American system with lean muscles clearly cut from under his thin summer t-shirt.

He studied her in surprise just as Hermione stared back at him. His eyes found the gifts in her arms and he leaned against the door frame with an easy smile that she knew most women would probably melt under. "A dame handing out presents in Brooklyn? Must be Christmas in July."

"It's actually birthday presents. I'm here for Steve. Steve Rogers? I'm sure that this is his address."

He blinked in surprise. "For Steve?" His eyes did a once over from her toes to her hat that made Hermione blush fiercely, and then he grinned. "You _must_ be Hermione."

Now it was Hermione's turn to be surprised. "You know me?" She knew of this man of course, Steve spoke of him often, but she hadn't realized the same would be said about her.

He laughed and opened the door wider for her to step in. "Come on in, the name is Bucky. Bucky Barnes."

Hermione stepped into the small apartment and took a look around while Bucky shut the door behind her.

The 'apartment' was a singular room with a small kitchen on the right side with an adjoining room on the left that must have been a bathroom. Straight down the middle of the room was a clothes line with a large sheet over both sides that acted as a wall and the 'bedrooms' for both boys.

"Steve's my roommate, best friend, brother- So when he started getting letters from a mysterious dame from _Midtown_...I had questions, but Steve's been very hush-hush about it all," Bucky smiled.

Hermione held out her hand in introduction. "Well it's nice to finally meet you Bucky. Steve talks a lot about you too."

Bucky took her hand and kissed the back of her knuckles in greeting. Hermione blushed and Bucky grinned back wickedly. "Good to know the punk wasn't lying."

Hermione cleared her throat lightly and took back her appendage. "That he'd been writing to me?"

"That you're beautiful."

Hermione's blush probably rushed all the way down to her toes. Never had she been so brazenly _flattered_ from neither wizard or muggle man before. She had no idea how to respond. She smiled weakly and motioned to the present in her arms. "Well I was just going to-"

Bucky tucked his hands into his jeans. "Steve's in the bathroom. Feel free to pull up a chair and wait 'till he's out; I'll let him know you're here." He motioned to the kitchen politely. "Do you want anything to drink? We've got water from the tap, and the milk should still be good." He motioned to the small icebox in the kitchen.

Hermione shook her head. "No that's alright, thank you." She didn't want to take anything she didn't need. Although Steve hadn't directly said it, Hermione knew both he and Bucky were always tight on money between the cost of living and Steve's consistent medicine needs.

"Alright hold on." Bucky walked to the bathroom door and pounded the wooden door shamelessly. "Ey! The door's for you punk!"

"Would you quit your- I heard you! I heard you!"

Bucky continued to mercilessly pound the bathroom door. "Come on, let's go Stevie-boy!"

Steve threw the bathroom door open, looking up at Bucky with narrowed eyes. His white long sleeve was rolled up to his elbows in the July heat and his black suspenders hung from his thin shoulders loosely. "Half the block coulda heard you Buck. What's with the-"

Steve saw past Bucky's figure and straight at Hermione near their door. Steve's jaw dropped and he unconsciously ran a hand through his golden blonde hair. "Hermione!"

Bucky sidestepped in front of Steve as he tried to get around the taller man, and Steve threw an elbow at his midsection. Bucky reared back in pretend hurt and Steve rolled his eyes as he got closer to her.

"I didn't know you were coming today!" Steve smiled at her..

Hermione shuffled the presents in her hands and presented the largest one to him first. "Well I wanted to say happy birthday, and to give this to you in person. I was going to get you charcoal or pencils for you to draw with, but after I saw the newspaper clippings during our last game in Ebbets, I thought I'd ought to get you this instead." She hefted the package to Steve and he grasped it with both hands, nearly dropping it in surprise from the weight.

"It's heavy," he acknowledged.

"Is it made of gold?" Bucky asked with a wink to her.

Hermione felt the urge to stick her tongue out at him. "Open it." she said softly instead.

Steve took the present completely from Hermione's hands and stared at the bow she had placed on top of the brightly colored wrapping paper around it. He studied the red, white, and blue colors and the shape of her ribbon.

Bucky's lips twitched. "It's real pretty huh Steve? How about ya open it too?"

Steve flushed a rose red across his cheeks and carefully began to deconstruct the paper and bow.

Hermione realized that this was probably the first gift Steve had been given in a long time between his and Bucky's money situation and the loss of his parents years earlier. She felt grateful that she had chosen the wrapping paper and bow instead of the shop's generic bag that they had offered.

When the brown tweed suitcase appeared free of the wrapping paper, Bucky took a long whistle. "Look, it's for going on nice trips Steve!"

Steve hefted the suitcase up with one arm and looked at Hermione with nothing but appreciation. "Thanks Hermion-"

"Oh for heaven's sakes, there is something _in_ the suitcase boys." She tipped her head. "If you please."

Steve flushed again, set the case on the kitchen counter, unlocked the switch on top, and revealed the black finished typewriter inside. Both boys stared at the gift with wide eyes.

"A portable typewriter," Bucky gawked with wide eyes.

"That's gotta cost- but, Hermione!" Steve whipped his head around.

"It's a gift," Hermione smiled slowly; not that it had been necessarily _cheap_. "When we read the newspaper clippings about the office assistants in Baumer's Lawyer Group at Ebbets field last, you said you always wanted to 'help the little guy'," Hermione said and crossed her arms in front of herself. "Well, here's a way in. They'll need someone who knows how to type write."

More importantly it would stop Steve from working at the docks, the mills, or the side of the streets. It would keep him from getting more sick, and away from fights.

Mildly selfish on Hermione's own part, she knew, but it had also been something that Steve's eyes had lit up about when they had shared a newspaper before the start of the baseball game. Baumer's Lawyer Group had a reputation for putting the small business owner, the underprivileged, the impoverished first, and stopping corruption in the big offices of Congress.

Steve had seen the job opening in the paper, smiled his brilliant smile, and then the rest wasn't really up to Hermione anymore.

"Hermione I don't know what-" Steve shook his head and clutched at his birthday gift with white fingers. "-Thank you."

"Of course," Hermione smiled, her own anxiety at the awed look on his face unbalancing her. "I know it's something you've wanted to try a hand at anyways. Maybe you can write a book and then illustrate your own writing."

Bucky slung an arm around Steve's shoulder. "Well wouldn't that be swell. Stevie, the littlest author in Brooklyn."

Steve guffawed and ducked out under from his friend, gift firmly in hand.

"Just you wait," the shorter of two men said back. "One day I'll make a difference out there."

There was a stillness in Bucky's stance that drew Hermione's eye as he smiled down at Steve. "Buddy, I know it. You're gonna do big things one day." He grinned and then winked at Hermione. "And now you've got a dame that knows it too."

Hermione couldn't see Steve's face as he ducked his head, but she watched as he turned to carefully set the large briefcase down on his side of the room. When he looked back up, the small smile that was settled across his lips seemed to momentarily blind Hermione. It was just so _genuine_. She could feel it down in her toes.

"And this is the second," Hermione handed him the smaller wrapped gift. It had no bow on it, but the brightly colored paper was still crisp around the edges.

Steve took is hesitantly and unfolded the sides.

Hermione watched as he removed the paper completely and held a green covered book in his hand.

"The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?" Steve read the cover with wide eyes.

"I know you've already got a copy, but you said it was falling apart at the seams. I thought I'd get you a newer one so you could go easier on the other copy." The copy that Steve's mother used to read from, she knew.

"That's really-" Steve started and looked down at the book cover again. He blinked several times. "I can't-"

"That was real sweet of you doll. Steve's always need'in a copy of that. It's one of his favorites," Bucky jumped in, saving Steve from having to try to say anything else.

_I know it's his favorite._

"It's- They're both really great gifts Hermione, thank you," Steve said steadily and holding the book firmly in his hands.

She didn't want to squirm under his gaze, she was _28 years old_ for goodness sakes, but she clasped her hands in front of herself regardless. "Of course Steve, you're my friend."

"Then I'm the luckiest guy on this side of the States."

Bucky squeezed the back of Steve's neck in a playful manner and laughed when Steve nearly squawked at the pressure.

Hermione burst into laughter at the act and clapped her hands together.

Bucky grinned and let his friend go when Steve threw another elbow into his sternum. "Come on," Bucky laughed. "Let's get out of here birthday kid and _friend_. I know a place." He marched to the door and nodded at the others in the room. "But we gotta hurry if we wanna get the good stuff."

Hermione and Steve shared a look before they hurriedly followed after the tallest of them.

* * *

July 4th 1941

'The good stuff' ended up being ice cream from a new shop in Staten Island after a bus, ferry ride, and then to Hermione's insistence, a taxi cab ride later. The ice cream parlor was called Good Humors Ice Cream, and it sold the saltiest ice cream in New York for 5 cents a cone or 15 cents a pint.

"The joints just opened last month. A great time to open an ice cream parlor if you ask me," Bucky said, grinning at the massive amounts of people seated and the absolute chaos of orders being taken around them.

Hermione tugged the brim of her hat further down her forehead and ignored the familiar crawling sensation of having a hundred eyes on her, as she did with most places that held a large center of people. It was part of the traumatic stress she'd never been able to let roll off her shoulders after the war with Voldemort. She had found that if she was in the middle of a crowd, such as here, a presentation room in the SSR office, or at the baseball field, she couldn't bear to be in one place for longer than a couple of minutes. Usually, she desperately needed something sturdy to back against. Like a brick wall. Or a cement rise.

Bucky frowned down at her when someone brushed against her back and she flinched involuntarily. "What's got you so spooked doll?"

Steve's eyebrows came together over his peaches ice cream. "Are you okay?"

Hermione forced the spoon to hang loosely from her grip. "Fine, thank you. Crowds make me… uneasy."

Bucky's eyes swept the room and he lowered his own spoon. "Well I gotta say, you picked the wrong town to live in doll."

"Bucky!" Steve sputtered.

Hermione swallowed the smile emerging from his frank attitude. "You're probably right. I've avoided crowds. I can't exactly do that now that I'm living in America, especially in New York."

"Yeah. What made you skip home? Englands' not exactly next door," Bucky asked easily.

Steve abandoned his ice cream and glared at his best friend. "Bucky, _don't._ You don't have to answer that Hermione."

Bucky shrugged, and took another jab at his ice cream cup. "You never say anything about her Stevie. A guy can't be curious? You've only said that she's from 'cross the pond, smart, and beau-"

"We can go right now if you want Hermione. I've got enough money for a cab," Steve interrupted, red faced and frowning. "You don't have to say anything."

Hermione almost didn't. Peggy had prepared her for basic questions, but the sinking feeling of never seeing her family again was like falling through several stories of a building and trying to drag herself up from the heap of her landing. It hurt every time. She didn't want to drudge that up again.

But she had just been thinking of situations like this earlier. She needed to create a proper story if she wanted a life here. So Hermione did what she did best, and told them the facts, but with just a little bit of embellishing and white lies.

"No it's alright, you ought to know if we're to be friends." She met Bucky's eyes. "I can understand wanting to know more about someone who's just suddenly appeared. So, there's a War on you see, and I lost all of my friends and family in England. My home no longer exists, so there was no place to go back to," she said. _Let them think it was the bombs._

Bucky lowered his eyes and away from her.

Steve swallowed. "I know we never talked or wrote about it before-" he glanced over to Bucky who was slowly stirring his melting ice cream with downcast eyes. "But is that why you work for the Army? Because of the War?"

Bucky looked up in surprise at Hermione, and felt her own surprise jolt through her. "How did you know that I worked for the Army?"

Steve fiddled with his spoon. "Well you never talk about your job in the letters or around me. It was clear you weren't in any sort of normal office as a secretary or something, you're too smart for that," he smiled nervously. "And every time the war was brought up in the papers or around us, you seemed to already know about it. I just kinda figured that's how you already knew. You worked for them. Intelligence or something."

"I'm sorry I asked," Bucky said to her with genuine eyes. "Wasn't my place."

Hermione accepted his apology. "Steve's right. I do work for a section of the US military. It's classified, so I can't talk to you about it, but it is the reason I left England."

The July sunlight through Steve's carefully combed blonde hair made his head look haloed by the shops window. "Are you going to go back? After the war?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Probably not. There's nothing left for me there."

Bucky stood up. "Then welcome to being a New Yorker." He grabbed her forgotten ice cream as well as Steve's and threw them into the bin next to them. "Let's get out of this crowd."

Hermione shared a look with Steve and they both stood up after Bucky.

The taller of the men used all 6'2 of his height to lead the navigation through the shops crowds with Hermione just a step behind him. No one touched her.

When the three of them made it far away enough from the shop and the warf that she could breathe easier again, Bucky turned around.

"I had no right to ask you personal questions like that. I'm sorry, it won't happen again." He looked her dead in the eye with his words and Hermione unfolded the arms she didn't know she had been holding around herself. "You don't want to do crowds? We don't do crowds. Ever again." He glanced at Steve and then back to her. "Now hurry up and accept my apology before Steve beats me up."

Hermione snorted a laughed and reached out to hug Bucky gently. He enveloped her back hesitantly. After stepping away and regarding both men standing before her, she smiled. "It didn't happen yesterday, what happened to my home. And I've heard that it helps to talk to friends about it. I'm okay. Although, I appreciate your apology."

Bucky hiked a thumb at her to Steve. "See punk? She accepted. Even got myself a new title too. _Friend_. Ain't never been a friend to a dame before."

Hermione laughed again and it looked like Steve was struggling not to roll his eyes.

* * *

The months passed.

Hermione and Steve continued their letters between social meetings, and Hermione decided to include Bucky in on writing him the occasional letter as well. Although most times he wouldn't respond to every part of the letter like Steve did, she began to get to know him too.

Steve took the portable type writer and used it with more office jobs. He was working fast at gaining the typing skill set that Baumer's Lawyer Group was looking for. Just a couple more weeks of odd jobs, Steve had assured Hermione, and he would apply for an assistant position.

On October 31st 1941, Hermione took Steve to see Dumbo the newest animated Disney movie, and Steve spent 5 cents on a package of new candy called _M&Ms._ They shared the small chocolaty circles through the movie, and Steve made sure to save her the last one.

On November 9th 1941, Hermione helped Steve sign up for an art class at the Brooklyn Museum Art School, just recently opened that summer, for classes on amateur landscaping and portraits. He walked Hermione to a cab after receiving his first supplies list that day, and kissed the back of her hand. Hermione smiled warmly at him and promised to write soon.

When she got back to her apartment with Peggy, she realized several things all at once.

First, the following day of Nov 10th, 1941 would be the first anniversary of her life in a different time and dimension. It meant that 365 days would have passed since her accident in the lab with the tesseract in her old life. It felt as if it had happened much longer ago than that, and in the same thought, not nearly long enough. She missed her life, her job, her friends, and little family she had built with Harry and Ron's own family and children. She'd been respected as a leader in her field, honored in her published work and with Voldemort's War, and adored as a godmother.

She missed those part of her life terribly, but also was in love with the life she was living.

Peggy was her closest friend, her best friend, the first girl best friend she had ever had. She cherished their conversations, the witty banter between them, the easy flow of conversation and information, and she adored the confidence that her friend exuded in everything she did.

Abraham was one of the most brilliant men she'd ever met, never mind that he was a muggle. But he had also been a father, and Hermione had learned how to mourn with him for his lost family, and then to remind him how to keep living. He was the mentor she had always wanted, and very slowly, he became closer to a father, or grandfather figure to her. Correcting her mistakes, listening to her theories, sharing his lessons and history over vodka shots or tea in the afternoons.

And their work was _important_. Hermione was changing the face of the war. If Abraham and her could accomplish what was needed, they would more than win the war, they would save _millions _of lives.

And Steve. Another one of her closest friends, although unexpected and cherished. The values in her life had been placed upside down in the new world she'd stepped into but Steve always seemed to have a way to make her feel like she was exactly where she needed to be. Like she was heard, and important, and _wanted_. Bucky was an unexpected addition to that as well, but she admired his easy confidence and ridiculous humor.

She missed her old life yes, but she loved what she had here as well. She didn't know if she could trade one for the other.

Secondly, Hermione was sure she had feelings for Steve.

She wasn't sure when they turned from admiring and trusting to warm and breathless, but she knew what a crush felt like, and Hermione thought she was even a little beyond _that_ at this point. They had known each other for months now. They were friends, close friends. And Hermione knew that he was an honest, up-front, honorable, loyal, extremely noble, and an unfailingly dependable man, unlike anyone she had ever met before. His moral compass led him to stand up for things that his physical body could not withstand and it was humbling to talk to someone who knew that the best of you could change the world.

Yes, Hermione had a very deep crush. She had no idea what to do with it.

Thirdly, Hermione needed to talk to Colonel Phillips. She needed to talk to him _now_ or to do _something_ right _now_ about it, and she felt sick to her stomach.

As she remembered that tomorrow would be November 10th 1941, it also meant that in less than a month, Pearl Harbor would be attacked and over 2,300 Americans would die. It would be the beginning of America entering World War Two, and the cost of over 400,000 lives that it would drag down with it.

She knew when it was going to happen, she knew where. She had to do something. To stop it. She _had_ to.

Hermione threw up in the kitchen sink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song Link: [Harry James - It's Been A Long Long Time](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4OtcskeRBJw)


	6. The Catalyst

* * *

"My past has tasted bitter for years now, So I wield an iron fist  
Grace is just weakness, Or so I've been told  
I've been cold, I've been merciless  
But the blood on my hands scares me to death  
Maybe I'm waking up today"

\- James Young, "I'll Be Good"

* * *

* * *

Nov 20th 1941 

Hermione threw down her hands on the wooden table and her fingers splayed across the glossy finish. The ‘thump’ of her force echoed in the underground facility. “Colonel, by then it will be _ too late_.” 

Peggy’s eyes followed the direction of conversation between Colonel Phillips and Hermione. Her arms were folded behind her back, and she remained silent and apathetic. 

Colonel Chester Phillips furrowed his eyebrows, nailing Hermione to the floor. “I’ve heard your explanation. I sent reconnaissance. There’s been no evidence of an attack planned from Japan on our radar,” he said. 

Anxiety and panic settled in a pit at her stomach. She could see it in his eyes, the way he stood. “You don’t believe me.”

“We have reliable intel that says they want to execute a six-month cooling-off period after the oil embargo disaster,” he said. He took off his service hat, flattened his hair, and somehow managed to stand even straighter. “And they’ve only just reinstated a new Prime Minister, that General Hideki Tojo. As of right now, they lack the capacity to mount such an operation.”

“I’ve _ told _you that your information would be wrong. This is what happened the last time!” 

_ Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time Harry,_ she’d once said. 

Hermione swallowed the emotions that came with her memory. She shifted her weight away from the tabletop and stood as tall as she could, nearly as straight as him. “Pearl Harbor will be the greatest intelligence failure in American History.” She bore her eyes to his, demanding his attention. “No one will expect what’s coming. Not until it’s too late.”

He sighed deeply and took a seat at the table between them. Hermione and Peggy exchanged a glance and followed. “How can we be sure that what you say is still going to happen?” Colonel Phillips asked. “From what you and Stark have said about your_ incident_, just being here could be changing the future you knew. Given that you’re not only out of time, but from a different … _ place_, every event you think is coming might not even happen.”

Hermione nearly sighed in return. “Yes, but water is still wet. This is not a slip of inventory numbers that History forgot about. This will be the catalyst for America joining this World War. The first time you are attacked on your homeland from a foreign enemy. This will _ change _ things.”

Another silence. “Is it a necessary change?” he asked. The fluorescent lighting darkened the wrinkles under his eyes and around his mouth. 

Hermione blinked. Then blinked again. “Thousands will die. Horrible, horrible deaths. We’ll continue finding bodies weeks after it all and the death toll will only climb.”

“Miss. Granger that is the nature of war. I’m asking if this is necessary to end the War.” 

Hermione wasn’t so sure. It was agreed that this country entering the Allies was the tipping point in their favor in all of the academic research she had known. It had started with Pearl Harbor. So in a sense, _ yes_, it was necessary for the first step to happen if the war was to end.

But she could change it couldn't she? She could … do something else to initiate America going to war. Something without Pearl Harbor. Couldn’t she? _ Shouldn’t _ she? 

“I can see it in your eyes,” Colonel Phillips said, interrupting her inner turmoil. “You want to save lives. But think on this. Doing that might just lead to the downfall of the Allies. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions more would die if that happened.”

Hermione watched his eyes. “You know that America needs to enter the War?”

“You know I do.” He folded his hands on the fable in front of him. “That’s why we’re all counting on Project Rebirth. Question is, how do we make that happen without, as you said, the catalyst?”

Hermione didn’t know. There had to be another option, another way to end the war, but Colonel Phillips was right. The war was happening right now, people were dying every day. _ She _ was working on a way to end the war with Abraham, but nothing had happened yet, and nothing was stopping the carnage across the sea. She was a nut to the huge machine and she had no power to change anything from here. Not even with her future knowledge. 

She leaned back in her chair, boneless. “I don’t know,” she answered honestly.

Colonel Phillips' jaw rotated and he nodded mostly to himself. “Washington thinks that Hawaii is ready for an attack if Japan decides to end negotiations.” 

“We know that to be untrue.”

He agreed. “I’ll get a team out there. Make sure they’re ready. We’ll see what we can do.”

Hermione's stomach flipped and she suppressed the shivers down her back. It didn’t feel like it would be enough. “Alright.”

* * *

Dec 7 1941 

On the morning of the attack on Pearl Harbor, Hermione didn’t sleep. Peggy stayed awake through the night with her, setting down cups of tea and resetting Billie Holiday and The Jimmy Dorsey Orchestra records on the phonograph. 

When the sun came up, Hermione went down to the labs and began her day with Abraham. There would be no reports or newspaper articles written until tomorrow, as the attack was happening over 6,000 miles away, but she still felt the weight of her knowledge heavy on her shoulders. 

Guilt hung heavy in her stomach, and she swallowed back the urge to throw up. Her hands were clammy as she made her way to her station in the lab, and furious blinks couldn't keep away the dizziness that swayed her feet. She _ knew _ how many would die awful, _ horrible _ deaths, and she did nothing. Continued to do nothing. 

The glass flask Hermione was holding fell from her hands and shattered on the linoleum floor of the lab. Other scientists around the large room stared. Hermione ducked her head, knelt to the ground, and swept the broken glass together. A sharp edge caught the side of her palm and she began to bleed over the remains of her test tube. 

She had the unbearable urge to cry. 

“_Fräulein _ Granger?” a familiar voice asked above her.

Hermione looked up from the pile of glass to Abraham. “Yes Doctor?” 

“The other test tubes are in the storage down the hall. I vill show you,” he said offering a hand. 

Hermione used a napkin to collect the glass from the floor and accepted her mentor's hand. 

He viewed the cut on her palm and collected another napkin on her desk to cover the bleeding. “And we will be going to the nurse's office as well,” he said marginally softer. 

Hermione could feel the judgement from the other male assistants from the corner of her eyes, and Abraham gave them a very brisk once over. “Continue!” he said sharply, and they jumped back into their duties. Abraham led them out of the room. 

“I am fine Abraham. It just slipped out of my hand," she told him as he took the pile of wrapped glass from her and threw it away. 

“It is out of character for you to drop your work _ klein _ time traveler,” he said softly as they walked down the hall. 

“I’m tired is all,” she answered back with partial honesty. 

They walked together down twisting halls. “And it has nothing to do with the war you will not speak of?” he asked with raised eyebrows. 

Colonel Phillips warned early on in her training that keeping conversation away from her knowledge of the War would help Abraham to let go of his lost family. She had initially agreed. “You know I shouldn’t.” 

“But it does weigh heavily, no?” 

She grimaced. “Of course. Always.”

He stopped in the middle of the empty hallway, turned to her, and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I am only a scientist, not a reader of the mind. But you have something that does not sit well, I think.” He studied her from over the tops of his rimmed glasses. “I vill help if I can.”

Hermione grimaced again. “No one can help this part of me Abraham. It’s my own.”

“Do you feel guilt?”

The urge to cry came swiftly from the base of her throat again. She did _ nothing_. “Yes.”

“Because you can not change what vill happen?” 

“Because- I didn’t even try.”

He studied her again. “You told the colonel, yes?”

She blinked. “Yes, of course, but that won’t be enough.”

The heat of his fingers radiated down her arms and held her softly. “That is not for you to decide _ klein _ time traveler. You are not a god, or a queen, or even a person of great power in this time. You can only do what this world allows you. And that is to _ guide._ What they do with the knowledge is up to men much bigger than you now. They would not listen if you tried. You know this.”

She did know this. She had no history with this world despite the fake documents that Peggy and the SSR had made for her. She had no _ background _ that would justify her words unless she wanted to announce her status as a time and dimension jumping traveler. And unfortunately in this period of history, because she was a woman, she was already at a disadvantage. 

“I feel helpless.”

“You feel guilt for something you can not control. This is the way of war, of life.” He looked pointedly at her wrapped hand. “Just as much as you could stop a biological reaction, you can not stop the condition of humanity.” He motioned down the hall. “Although we should be getting your hand looked at, _ja_?” 

Hermione walked beside him to the nurses office and let a nurse clean and cover her hand. He stayed with her until she was free to go, and he insisted on her returning home to rest for the remainder of the day.

“Eat something. Breathe. Write to that friend of yours in Brooklyn. If what you’ve alluded to is to be true, we will be busy for sometime, and you will not be able to leave the lab.” 

Hermione didn’t want to leave, but he gave her no choice. 

Later in the day, she found herself alone in her apartment staring out her window into New York. Abraham was right, today would be the last ‘normal’ day for the next few years. She should write to Steve and let him know she probably wouldn’t be seeing him soon. And Bucky. 

She turned from the window and sat herself down with a spare sheet of paper and a pen. 

* * *

Dec 9th 1941 

Hermione learned that she hadn’t changed the timeline much despite her warning to Colonel Phillips. On the morning of December 8th, every newspaper in America had nearly the same headline on the previous day's attack. 

“**1500 Dead At Hawaii: Congress Votes WAR!**”

Apparently despite Colonel Phillip’s team whipping the base into action, not enough had been done in time. Ships had been left wide open for attack, planes had been parked in clusters close together, and supplies had been in the same areas. When the bombs came, everything went up in smoke. 

Lives were lost. Not as many as originally in Hermione’s time line, almost a thousand less actually, but people still died.

It started a mass movement within America overnight. Recruiting stations appeared in every city. Radio shows were documenting more seriously on the effect of the war. Propaganda was already starting to filter through to everyday life. 

And Steve and Bucky were not exempt from the Pearl Harbor reaction. 

“_As soon as Buck and I heard about America joining the War, we knew we had to do something _ ,” Steve’s letter had read this morning. _ “The first step was to learn how to really fight. Bucky’s sister Rebecca, I’ve told her about you haven’t I? Well, she helped us sign ourselves up for boxing at Goldie’s Gym where her fella goes, at least for the next two weeks. Then around Christmas, we’ll head to a recruiting station together.” _

Hermione wasn’t sure Steve would be able to enlist with his list of ailments, but she worried for the both of them nonetheless. 

Both sides of the war were heading towards a climax and Hermione had heard a rumor that Johann Schmidt, known as codename Red Skull now, was looking for a powerful artifact to help him win the war with Hydra. On the Allies side, Hermione and Abraham were finishing up the last equations on testing with vita-rays, an electromagnetic radiation emitted from a highly dangerous chemical compound invention of Howard Stark’s named Nitramene, that had a surprising amount of stabilizing properties on host cells. They were close to completion, but it was slow going.

The serum was never fully written down or documented, it just remained solely in the doctor’s brain. He had confided to her that if he was to give her the entire serum, she would be in grave danger from not only Hydra, but perhaps undesirables in their own government as well. She had respected his decision and never asked for more of the equation to work on than he gave. 

Colonel Phillips already had nine men chosen from various sectors across the military to be the first test subject, and possible super soldier. Hermione and Peggy had both seen the profiles of all the chosen candidates. They were all tall, physically adapted men with varying military strengths, multiple years of service in their branch, and had a healthy respect for chain of command. 

Abraham had grimaced when Colonel Phillips had given him the profiles, but he took and reviewed them diligently. He was to give Colonel Phillips an accepted candidate by Christmas. 

Hermione of course was to help him with that process. 

* * *

Dec 20 1941 

“Absolutely not,” Abraham said late that night in the comfort of his apartment, just down the hallway from Peggy and Hermione’s. 

Hermione lowered the picture of Sgt. Robert O’Mally and put a penned X over his face. “Are you sure about this one? He’s a marksman. Speaks three languages.”

“Those can be taught. No look at his physiological performance. Married twice. Divorced twice. Anger management. Suffers from relapse in alcohol abuse- no. No, I vant a _ good man _ to be able to use the serum.”

She looked at the seven of nine men that they had crossed off the list. Only two were left, and Hermione did not think they would stand to the doctors expectations. 

* * *

Dec 25 1941 

Hermione spent Christmas with Abraham and Peggy in her apartment. The only Christmas decorations to be found in their small shared space was the tiny Christmas tree decorated with tinsel and popcorn string in the far corner of the living room. Below it was a pile of various gifts they had compiled together. 

They shared a Christmas breakfast together near the radio crooning Christmas carols with poached eggs on wheat bread, and an apple cobbler that Peggy had made early in the morning. Tea was served with an option of coffee that none had yet reached for, and Abraham had brought a bottle of Vodka and Wine for later in the evening. 

Hermione smiled over her cup of tea as Peggy went forwards to separate the gifts amongst them. It was an uneven amount between them, so they decided to open each pile of presents by person. Surprisingly enough, Hermione had the most gifts and so she went first. 

She received gifts from Peggy, Abraham, and several of the assistants from the lab with Yangee’s newest color of lipstick Red-Red, a compact mirror, shoes, several different books, and then oddly enough, a silver whistle from Colonel Phillips, with a small letter to her that said, “To winning the War with the best men.” 

Peggy laughed at the whistle and then showed her an identical one from one of her gifts as well. “I imagine he’ll want us more hands-on with training the man that’s chosen for the serum?” 

Hermione glanced between the matching whistles. “It appears so.” She glanced at Abraham and he gave a minute shrug to her. She carried on, “Whenever we find the right man for the job.”

Peggy lowered her whistle and looked between the two of them carefully. “You haven’t chosen a candidate from the list for Project Rebirth?” 

Hermione shook her head. “Not yet.”

“Does the Colonel know?”

“Not yet.”

Peggy took a sip of her tea and raised a glass to them. “To your good health.”

Hermione laughed and tossed a present to Abraham for his pile. 

She realized that while she had sent off Steve and Bucky’s Christmas present days ago, there was nothing from them to her. Not even a card. Hermione shrugged the sting off her shoulders and reminded herself of the conditions they consistently lived in. They could barely afford food for themselves, let alone Christmas presents. She shouldn’t feel any sort of way. They were living off of almost nothing. 

Peggy had opened her presents with Hermione and Abraham had gone last. Hermione felt wonderful when Abraham had seen her gift of a framed photograph. It captured a moment they were together in the labs, heads and hands conspiratorial over an unseen document. He smiled warmly at the picture and traced a finger over the glass. “This is a gift that warms my heart Hermione. Thank you.”

She grinned back shyly, but pleased. “Of course.”

* * *

Dec 26th 1941 

Hermione tucked her winter coat tighter around the middle to ward off the winter chill as she stepped out of the cab. Her eyes tracked the dusting of snow falling around her apartment building when she closed the door behind her, and withheld the urge to sighed deeply.

Colonel Phillips had not been happy at the rejected candidates he’d selected, and her ears were still ringing from the speech afterwards. ‘_Best the military had to offer’ _ , was a common phrase shouted through the base, and ‘_We can’t win the War if we don’t have a man to do the fighting dammit! _’ was another. 

After the ensuing two hour argument between Abraham and Colonel Phillips on the qualifications the future candidate needed to have, Hermione felt laden with fatigue. She wanted a hot cup of tea, and to sit curled up with one of her Christmas gifted books near the furnace in her room. Warmth, peace, and quiet.

She was not expecting a short, heavily jacketed figure, to step away from the front wall of her apartment building and step towards her. The thick brown beanie and coarse wool scarf withheld most of the stranger’s face from view, but she could recognize those eyes from anywhere. 

“Steve?” she squinted against the biting wind. 

His eyes crinkled, and the frigid air cut through her coat’s warmth as she rushed forwards. “Good heavens Steve! It’s freezing out here!” she said, grasping both arms of his thick overcoat. 

“Came to -” Hermione could feel his shivers through the layers, “- give you your present.”

Her brows furrowed. “My _ what _?”

Steve’s hand dug deep into the depths of his layers and then revealed a palms length, square, wooden box. It was a rich auburn-brown with silver furnished corners and keyhole at the middle of the front side. Hermione stared at the box in his hands dumbfounded. 

“You brought me-?”

“Merry C-C-Christmas Hermione.” He offered her the wooden box, and she took it with numb fingers that had nothing to do with the cold. He reached into his front pocket slowly and revealed with pale tipped fingers a silver key hanging at the bottom of a thin silver necklace. “And t-this goes w-with it.”

She put her hand over the necklace, over his hand completely, and tugged him towards the building entrance. “Come on Steve. Upstairs. You can show me upstairs.”

His hand clenched around hers briefly like he was going to protest, and Hermione very nearly thought about using a wandless charm to _ carry _ him up to her apartment. But his hand relaxed in the next moment, and Steve let her pull him through the front doors and into the lobby elevators. She quickly pushed the floor she needed to be on, and returned her attention to Steve. 

He held the silver looking necklace in a death grip close to his chest and Hermione anxiously put her hands over his. “Merlin, your hands are _ freezing_.” 

“Merlin?” Steve asked, his small shoulders shaking under his heavy coat, but his eyes wide and studying her face. 

“It’s a - nevermind. What were you _ thinking? _ How long were you standing out there? God, it’s below twenty degrees!”

“God had nothin t’do with it. I just wanted to see you.”

The elevator doors swung open, and they snapped Hermione’s out of her frozen feet. She wrapped an arm around his shivering frame and half dragged him towards her door. 

“Hermione, I c-can’t just come in! Your r-roommate-”

“She’s gone for the next week in Virginia.”

He shivered and leaned back. “It wouldn’t be r-”

“Steven Rogers! If you think I’m going to let you catch pneumonia because you stood outside to give me a Christmas present for God knows how long, in the middle of one of the coldest nights of the year, you’ve got a whole other problem we haven’t even addressed yet. I will _ not _ let you leave like this, now get in and sit _ down_.”

Steve blinked owlishly at her, and followed her as she unlocked her door and led him through the living room. 

Hermione kicked the front door closed, flicked on the only necessary lights to walk unencumbered, and turned up her gas stove in the kitchen to as hot as it would go. She sat Steve in front of the stove and fetched as many spare blankets she could. In the linen closet, she cast layered warming spells over everything she found before overlapping them around Steve. Lastly, she put the kettle on and prepared two cups of tea. 

A few minutes and a cup of tea later, Steve managed to remove his hat and shrug off a couple of enveloping blankets. Hermione poured him a second cup of tea and they sat together in front of the stove, silently basking in the heat. 

“Did- Did you like it?” Steve asked eventually, breaking the silence. 

Hermione suddenly remembered why he was here. “Oh!” she exclaimed, scrambling to her feet and retrieving the wooden box from the coffee table where she had dropped it after getting Steve by the stove. “I’m so sorry, I was so focused on-”

“It’s alright. Not the reaction I was hoping for,” Steve shrugged with a small smile and gestured to the stove, “But this is nice.”

Hermione grinned and sat back down next to him. “Well I wasn’t expecting to find a half frozen man outside my apartment building tonight.”

Steve’s smile dropped away and he nodded, like she had just confirmed something. Carefully, he lifted the rest of the blankets off his shoulders, folding them back up in precise lines and placing them neatly off to the side. 

“Steve you don’t have to-”

His eyebrows were furrowed. “Yes I do. I probably shouldn’t be staying too long anyways.” 

Hermione deflated. She hoped … well, she hoped she hadn’t hurt his pride with her eagerness to help. Generally, her mothering, nit picking, and know-it-all ways had always seemed to upset the people around her, a trait she never grew out of. She didn’t want that person to be Steve. 

She changed the subject bluntly. “Well, you know, I’m not really sure what this is. A treasure chest perhaps?” she asked, examining her gift loudly.

His grin crept back with the last blanket stacked. “I’d say you're close, but- you’re way off.”

She scoffed lightly. “Well then, help a lady?”

He offered her the silver necklace again with a steady hand. “This unlocks it.”

Hermione accepted the key attached to the necklace and slowly twisted the lock open. She exhaled a slow breath in wonder and stared at the delicate brass mechanism inside. It had a long slender metal comb adjacently set against an equally long cylinder of minute metal stubs embedded across its surface. It shone in the dull light of the apartment and Hermione couldn’t help but stare at its beauty. “It’s a music box,” she marveled. 

The warmth of the stove radiated off her skin and when she met his eyes, she wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the appliance that filled her, or her own hammering heart. 

“Steve,” she gaped. “It’s beautiful.”

He scratched the back of his head and blushed fiercely. “Well I know it’s a little late, but-”

“Nonsense, I love it,” She interrupted him. “I really do.”

His grin was wide when he pointed at the inside of the music box. “You put the key in the space right there and turn it, and it’ll start the music.”

Hermione followed his advice. She placed the key in the little opening on the left hand in the box, turned it clockwise three times, and removed the piece with bated breath. She saw the cylinder begin to spin and the metal comb strike the metal nubs on the cylinder in a tinkling melody. After a few moments, she was able to recognize the song. “Over the Rainbow,” she whispered and then smiled radiantly. 

She felt the weight of Steve’s eyes on her. “One of your favorites.”

She turned her smile on him. “Yours too.”

He scratched the back of his head again. “Both of ours, I guess.” 

Hermione agreed with a nod, coming back to the box in her hands. She watched the glow of the lights reflect off the silver stubs on the corners and vaguely wondered about the financial value of decorative silver in this time period. Her thoughts came to a screeching halt when she realized that America was still feeling the effects of the Great Depression and she had received a silver decorated music box from _ Steve _. A man who could barely afford food and medicine. 

Hermione snapped the box closed and thrust it back out to him. “_Steven _! This is entirely too much- I can’t possibly even accept-!” 

His eyes were wide and he raised his hands in surrender instead of claiming back the music box. “No it’s okay, it wasn’t much! I got the music box from a friend of a- well another friend who gave it to Bucky cheap because it was broken. The horologist from Sweden down the street owed me favor. That’s all.”

Hermione didn’t like it. The music box was _ beautiful, _yes, but not worth a missed meal, or worse the cost of oil for a warm home during a New York winter. “And the silver?”

“Came with the deal. Bucky’s known him a long time. And the necklace was already mine. Well, it was my mother’s.”

“_Steve.” _

He shook his head as she went to give the music box and necklace back to him. “It's my gift to give Hermione. I’ve had it since she died, but I think she would have been okay with me giving it to you. She would have- well I know she would have liked you.”

Hermione returned both gifts back to her lap. Warmth flushed her face and she tightened her hands over both items. “I'll take good care of them.”

He smiled, the light of the stove illuminating the curve of his jaw and the side of his blonde hair. “I know you will.”

She smiled back. “You’ll tell Bucky thank you too when you get the chance? For helping?”

“I sure will,” he nodded. “He had a hand in this just as much as I did. A present from both of us.”

Hermione watched his face as he spoke of Bucky. “And how is Bucky? The last I heard, the two of you were going to boxing lessons and then heading to the newest recruitment station for the War.” 

Steve turned to the oven, breaking their eye contact and rested his elbows on his knees. “Buck pulled a double shift at the docks the day we were heading over. I went by myself, but uh, I’m still working on that,” he said. 

Hermione didn’t press. She could guess what had happened, knew what an F4 was, and what that would mean to Steve. She didn’t know if he was physically able to do what the military asked, and frankly, she feared what would happen if he pushed himself to try to reach that limit with his body. 

“Well,” Hermione answered. “I’m just glad you have each other with everything happening now. It’s good to know you’re looking out for each other.”

Steve half shrugged with a small smile and looked back down at his lap. “Buck’s always had my back. He knows that I’d do the same thing for him.” _ If I could _ was silent at the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your wonderful support with each new chapter!
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [James Young - I'll Be Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=POqEVwROEQs)


	7. The Best Volunteer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The German accent is not only hard to write, but it also can throw off the tone of the story. So I've been reediting the strong accent some of these characters have and making them less blinding. Meaning, if the accent is not exactly consistent throughout the rest of the story (and If you went to the beginning and reread things) , I apologize, but I HAD to do something.  
  
Also, I had to take away scenes because it didn't really work for the plot here, but if you guys want I can made little mini stories from them if you'd like? The one I had to cut from this chapter was when Steve and Bucky both get sick and Hermione nurses them back to health?? So, let me know.  
  
UP NEXT: Bucky Barnes is the best wing man.

* * *

"She's a full tank, floorboard, foot on the gas  
Fire it up, I'm never gonna look back  
Oh yeah, she's my Madonna  
She's all I wanna  
So good it hurts, one look at her, and I'm a goner"

\- Mitchell Tenpenny, "Goner"

* * *

* * *

April 1942 

Time passed quickly for Hermione. 

Steve and Bucky both contracted pneumonia sometime after Christmas, and Hermione helped to nurse the pair back to health through the New Year. 

In late March, reports from spies overseas revealed that Johann Schmidt had found a powerful weapon deep in the heart of Norway. There were no confirmed records of what he had actually found, but there were rumors of a gift that only _ ‘the old gods’ _ could have left. What that meant baffled Hermione, but Johann had then immediately constructed several new bases across Poland, Austria, and Slovakia for scientific research and weapons manufacturing. 

Dread settled at the bottom of Hermione’s stomach after she was briefed of his newest development. She could still remember the glisten of his blood red skin and his screams of horror reverberating off Castle Kaufmann’s walls after he had threatened Abraham, and then condemned her as a prisoner for his purposes. 

Her nightmares could still recall the look in his eyes after the serum had failed, and his absolute _ hate _ still sliced through her dreams that jerked her awake at night. It terrified her to think of whatever he had found as some kind of weapon, and what a man like him could do with it.

“The serum not only enhances the body and mind,” Howard had said once, making a rare appearance from his own workshop somewhere in Brooklyn to look over Abraham’s notes, “but the personality and emotional traits too, morphing into amplified versions of the roots.”

Peggy fingered the discarded photos of the soldiers that Abraham had denied at Christmas next to Howard. “So, that’s the reason why he needs ‘a good man’ ?” she asked. 

Hermione nodded. “He says that because Johann was bad before he took the serum, it transformed him from what he already was and made it worse.”

Howard grimaced. “Super strong, super powered, _ Super Nazi_.” 

Hermione pushed the stack of photos from Abraham’s denied applications off her desk and into the bin. “Which is why he’s being so careful about this all. He wants to find someone who knows the value of strength. Of compassion. Who will know how to respect the stamina of body and know when to use the power of will.” 

The crossed out faces stared up at Hermione from the other junk in the bin. “To always make the right choice with the strength he’ll receive to ignore it,” she continued, shrugging. “He says that will be the marking of a good man.”

Howard put down the papers he’d been shuffling through and breathed out sharply. “Or the coming of _ Jesus._”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “We have plenty of time to find the right candidate. To make absolutely sure we’re not creating another Johann.” She crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wood of her desk. “Besides, the serum won’t be ready for human testing for another year, at the very_ least_. We’re still primarily experimenting with mice, and only with specific independent variables.” 

“A year?” Howard repeated with raised brows and huffed a laugh. “I bet the Colonel loved that news.”

Hermione fought the urge to shrug again. “It’s necessary. Johann injected himself with an unstable version of the serum, and Merlin only knows what he’s had to do to himself since then to maintain the homeostasis within his own body. I would never purposefully do that to another human being. Especially if it's the volunteer Abraham eventually approves.”

Howard crossed his arms across his chest and eyed her. “Maybe you ought to start thinking about putting yourself in the volunteer seat.”

Hermione choked on an incredulous laugh and raised her eyebrows. “Now _ that _ is something the Colonel would love.” 

Howard grinned thinly and folded his hands in front of himself. “Well, since we’ve got the time then, you can help me with my new project.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I thought your projects were making weapons, reverse engineering the German’s, and creating the Vita-ray chamber for Project Rebirth.”

“No doll, that’s how I get a _ paycheck_,” he dismissed as he stood tall away from her desk. “I was thinking of the future.”

Hermione and Peggy exchanged a glance. “What about the future?” Hermione asked cautiously. 

Howard played with the cuffs of his suit and flattened out the invisible wrinkles. “Technology,” he answered. “I don’t want to always build just weapons. Hopefully there’ll be a day where it’s not the first thing I do in the morning, and the last thing I think about when I go to sleep.”

Peggy’s eyebrows lifted and her lips parted. 

“What kind of technology do you want to create?” Hermione asked before the agent could comment.

If Howard noticed Peggy’s reaction, he didn’t say anything. He grinned widely. “No idea. Something no one's ever seen before.”

“Like what? ” Peggy asked, confusion plain over her face as she looked over Howard. “What would you do other than designing weapons? Build oil heaters? Light bulbs? _ Flying cars? _”

Howard winked at her and put his hands in his pockets. “Well that’s a grand idea Peggy. A flying car.” He grinned at Hermione. “I bet I could finish something like that by this time next year.”

“By next year?” Hermione’s eyebrows climbed to match Peggy’s. “You want to make a flying car?”

“No, I want to build an exhibition that shows the world more than people killin’ each other.”

“I didn’t realize you were such a humanitarian,” Peggy said, eyeing Stark with a new look that Hermione couldn’t decipher. 

Stark apparently couldn’t either, and he cleared his throat anxiously. “Well, it’s obviously for the company too. Stark Industries needs to dip its fingers in more pies than just the governments. I’d be a lousy business man if I didn’t know that.” He smiled then. “Maybe start with a good headline: Stark Shows All. I don't know, something snazzy.”

“The Stark Showcase?” Hermione volunteered.

He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Close I think, but it doesn’t have the right _ umf_.”

"World Exposition? Has a ring to it, don't you think?"

“How about building the flying car _ before _ you name your exhibition?” Peggy suggested.

Howard shook his head. “Too long. Can you imagine putting that in lights?” he pretended to shudder and Peggy rolled her eyes. 

“Well,” Hermione said smiling between the two, “what about The Stark Expo? Short for something grand like, The Stark World Exposition of Tomorrow, where all brilliant minds come together for the future.”

Howard paused. “Stark _ Expo_,” he felt it out on his tongue, and then nodded. “'Exposition of Tomorrow.' I like it.” He clapped his hands together once and rubbed them together. “I like it a lot.” He smiled at Hermione. “See! This is why you’re the brains of the operation. Stark Expo it is.”

Hermione grinned. And clapped her hands together as Howard had. “Great. And I want 18 percent.”

Howard choked. “I’m sorry, you want _ what _?” 

Peggy looked astonished too.

“Well I came up with the name didn’t I?” Hermione asked. “And aren’t you the one always saying I need to look out for my _ financial _chances? Well here I am! 18 percent.”

Howard traded astounded looks with Peggy. “To hell with that! I’ll give you- _ two hundred _ dollars, tops. And that’s only because you’re a friend! Well, at least I thought you were, before you tried _ robbing me blind._” 

Hermione laughed while thinking of the offer she had made mostly in jest, but then he had gone along and counter offered with two hundred dollars. Not an amount of money anyone would turn down at this point in history, especially herself. Her military paycheck was scarce as not only in the 1940's but as a woman too. Besides, he really _ had _ told her to look out for investments.

“Alright fine, _ 15 _ percent.”

“Wha-” he choked again. “You-” he blinked, and stepped forwards with a tipped head, vaguely threatening. "_5_percent.”

“Twelve.”

“Seven.”

Hermione fought back the urge to laugh. “_Howard. _ Didn’t you just say I was the ‘_brains of the operation_’?”

Peggy made an unlady like snort, and Hermione’s grin stretched wider. 

Howard’s eyes seemed like they’d pop out of his head, he was so focused on Hermione. His lips formed the beginning of several retorts before he breathed out sharply and narrowed his eyes. “_Ten_.” 

Hermione stretched out her hand. “Deal.” 

Howard scoffed and shook her hand. “I can’t believe goody-two-shoes-you just _ extorted _ me. Wait till I tell your fella. Hell, wait till I tell _ Jarvis_.”

“It was a pleasure doing business Howard,” Hermione said in a haughty tone that she borrowed from the late Mr. Malfoy. 

Peggy looked between the two of them. “Your skills of negotiation need work Howard.”

Howard pointed at Hermione. “You try negotiating with her next time. Then come laughing.”

Hermione sniffed. "You should ask for a percentage too Peggy. The flying car was your idea after all."

Howard choked.

* * *

June 1942

The rest of 1942 seemed to fly by to Hermione. 

Colonel Phillips asked Hermione to draw up a _ very _ general timeline of important events for the remaining year while she worked tirelessly with Abraham to finish the Super Soldier Serum. She did try to warn the general several times of upcoming wars, or disturbing news that only she could know, but Colonel Phillips would always stare her down with a look of adamantium before she could utter a word. 

He didn’t want to know too much information Hermione understood, or it might cost more lives than already lost, but it still hurt her to know she was effectively useless. She was not the type of person ever labeled as such, and it occasionally urked her when a headline in the papers reported yet another horrible event in the War she wasn’t able to really do anything about. 

November 1942 

By the end of November 1942, Hermione and Abraham were within months of finishing the Super Soldier Serum, and Colonel Phillips dismissed the rest of the research crew that had assembled over the life of the project. He stood tall before them with both hands behind his back, overlooking the empty research lab Hermione had spent countless hours working out of for nearly the past two years. 

“From here,” Colonel Phillips said, “we go to D.C. There’s been an assembly of qualified individuals I want you to take a look at tomorrow morning before we move into the final stages of this project. We leave in four hours.”

Hermione would be skipping dinner with Steve and Bucky tonight. “And our return estimation?” she asked.

“When we find the right candidate,” Colonel Phillips replied shortly. 

Hermione waylaid all of her future thoughts and plans. “That could be-” Hermione looked to her teacher, her friend, and peer. Abraham stared straight at Colonel Phillips with his hands crossed before him neatly. “-but sir, that could take _ months_.”

"We have a deadline of June. The same as the serum," His eyes flickered between Hermione and Abraham. "The Strategic Scientific Reserve and its' Allied effort, and that _does_ include you Miss Granger, make up of the best minds in the free world. In seven months, we will have the completed serum, the best man to volunteer, and then the best army this world has ever seen."

Hermione swallowed. "Yes Sir."

"And as agreed Dr. Erskine, you will have the power to make the final choice in your volunteer for Project Rebirth, but it _is_ on a deadline, do not be mistaken."

"Seven months will be more than enough time Colonel,_ for zhe serum_."

Colonel Phillips breathed out heavily. "Which is why if we do not find someone tomorrow morning in D.C., you will start traveling to bases across the US for further evaluation."

Abraham nodded shortly. "_Ja_."

Hermione breathed easier. "We'll go get our bags together then Sir."

Colonel Phillips nodded. "Clear out your apartments. When you find your volunteer, you'll be under placement at Camp Lehigh in New Jersey to oversee the military training and evaluation with Agent Carter." 

Hermione nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good," Colonel Phillips pressed his hands over his uniform before sweeping his eyes over the empty lab. "Then you're dismissed. Dr. Erskine, if you could walk with me." He made it less a question, and more a demand, and Hermione and Abraham shared a brief look before Abraham followed the Colonel into a separate room down the deserted hallway. 

Hermione swept her eyes over her old workplace as well, wishing she had a camera to capture the first place that had felt like home to her since she'd arrived in the 1940's.

Instead, she pulled on her winter coat and placed the strap of her purse over her shoulder, before walking out of the room. She reached the front of the office with Susan, the receptionist sitting on hand, and she placed a piece of paper on her desk. "I need a telegram delivered tonight. A Western Union Messenger is fine, but it must be tonight. Have the funds taken from my account."

Susan lifted the letter and read the neat script to type up. "Yes Miss. Granger right away, but, the sending address?" 

Hermione nearly cursed under her breath, but knew the other woman would hear at such a distance. She scrawled Steve and Bucky's address quickly and put on her winter hat. She smiled politely as the receptionist took the note back. "Good night Mrs. Campbell, if I don't see you again, you have been quite enjoyable."

Susan smiled the kind of dimpled expression that Hermione would never hope to accomplish and nodded politely back. "You as well Miss. Granger, have a wonderful evening."

* * *

March 2nd 1943

_Dear Hermione, _

_I received your postcard from Texas last week, and it sure does look beautiful! We did landscapes at the University that same day, and I tried for the likeness of the rolling plains you described. Maybe I'll send you a sketch next letter? _

_I know it's been months, but New York hasn't been the same without you. I'm not sure what I'll do when Ebbet's Field opens up again next month and you're not there to help me cheer on our Dodgers. First game will be on April 22 at 2pm. Any chance you'll be back in town by then? I'll hold a ticket for you just in case. _

_With everything happening on with the War, I gotta just say I hope you're safe out there. I know you're not out on the front, but it can't be easy doing what you're doing. For what it's worth, I hope you know I'm still in your corner. Bucky too. _

_Yours, _

_Steve_

_P.S. Bucky's just told me. They've pull his number. He's gonna be shipping out next week for basic._

* * *

June 14th 1943

Hermione put the finishing touches on Howard's bow tie and stepped back. His dark suit and slicked back hair shone against the dressing room mirror behind him and he smiled rakishly at her. "Like what you see doll?" 

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You'll do. Now, budge over, I've lipstick to apply too." He smirked and moved away while Hermione reapplied the red over her lips masterfully. She leaned closer to the mirror and checked the panes of her face for any cakey residue left behind by her earlier powdering session. 

"You look gorgeous doll," Howard said from behind. 

Hermione met his eyes in the mirror and stepped back while replacing her lipstick back into her bag. She studied her reflection again and ran her hands down the front of her deep blue dress. "I haven't felt this dressed up since the last time I was in New York, over seven months ago.

"Your fella know you're back?" 

"_I_ didn't know I was going to be here today until this morning. I haven't had time to send a telegram, and _Steve_ doesn't have a telephone. He's not my anything Howard. We're very good friends, that's all." 

"Sure you are," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. _"Sure,_ but are we gonna do this or what? Today's the day."

She smiled. "Today_ is_ the day. I can't wait to see Peggy's face when she sees it."

Howard smirked and opened the dressing room. "You'll have to photograph it for me while I'm on stage." He held out his arm. "You coming as far as the chorus girls?"

Hermione let Howard take her arm and lead her down the brightly lit hallway towards the back end of the stage. "No, I'm meeting Peggy at the viewing box across from the band so we can get a good view." She winked at him. 

He huffed a laugh. "Anything for the only pair of shareholders in Stark Industries," he joked. 

His comment set off ideas in Hermione's mind. "Have you thought about taking the company public?" she asked. 

Howard accepted a drink from a passing waiter heading outside to the crowd, and swished the drink in his mouth for a moment. "No, not yet. After the war maybe." He gave her a knowing look. "Why? Going to buy me out when I do?"

Hermione accepted a drink as well, letting the waiter move on, and smiled. "You know I like you too much to do that to you just yet," she said. She grinned and raised her glass. 

Howard brought his glass against her for a small _clink_ and laughed before taking a drink. "Hermione, I've missed you more than any dame I've ever met, and damn if I'm glad you're back. Let that 10% be a good show tonight."

She sipped her drink and laughed with Howard at the edge of the back stage. "I'll meet you after, yes? We'll have a drink before I head to New Jersey tomorrow." 

He nodded. "Will do doll, don't forget that photograph!" he said as he met up with the chorus girls in their pin up matching Stark Expo uniforms. 

Hermione sipped her drink as she exited the backstage and made her way towards the sheltered viewing stations on the sidelines of the stage. She held up her badge at the security guards in front of their roped off area and sat down in a comfy chair besides her dark haired friend. 

"How was he?" Peggy asked, her eyes scanning the forming crowds around Corona Park, and taking in the various exhibitions of the Stark Expo's future technology. 

"Good, a little nervous," Hermione answered. 

Peggy crossed her legs to the other direction, facing Hermione. "And how was the west coast? I heard Washington still rains this time of year."

"Fort Worden was miserable. Abraham didn't find what he was looking for." 

"So then, you have all of your final volunteers?"

"All of them Colonel Phillip's picks. Abraham didn't choose even _one_." 

Peggy frowned. "That worries me."

Hermione sighed. "Me as well." She turned in her chair to scan their little room. "Where is he?"

"Where do you think?" Peggy gave her a look. 

"_Welcome to the Modern Marvels Paviliion and the World of Tomorrow. A greater world. A better world_," a male announcer said throughout the park. Hermione smirked and motioned for a photographer she'd hired specifically for this moment to be ready. 

On stage, just in front of Peggy and Hermione's viewing station, a brunette haired chorus girl stepped on stage with four other girls in a practiced line, and lifted a microphone close to her lips. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Mr. Howard Stark!"

Music swelled, the chorus girls took turn in lifting a hand in welcome to the rhythm of the music, and Hermione's favorite weapons manufacturer appeared on stage with a stunning smile to the adoring audience. Howard took off his hat and the announcing chorus girl accepted it, as well as the passionate kiss that Howard Laid on her lips, before taking the microphone and using a handkerchief to dab at the lipstick on his lips. 

Somewhere amongst the crowd, a woman yelled to the stage, "I love you Howard!"

Howard smiled back. "Ladies and Gentlemen, what if I told you that in just a few short years, your automobile won’t even have to touch the ground at all?" 

Peggy's eyebrows climbed. "He _didn't_." 

Hermione held back her laughter and watched as the chorus girls helped take the wheels off of the car that sat just behind Howard.

He glanced at the control station sitting on wheels in front of him. "With Stark Robotic Reversion Technology," he smiled again, the stage lights twinkling off his eyes, "-you’ll be able to do just that." He turned a knob, lifted a switch, and the miraculous happened. 

Hermione heard the music swell again, and watched as the red Cadillac Coupe slowly began to rise off the floor of the stage. Hermione's own jaw dropped at the sight, and from the corner of her eye, she saw Peggy's drop too. A photograph flashed and Hermione faintly thought that the image would have her awed face in it as well from the angle. 

She had _never_ seen something like this before. Not in her own reality, especially not in the early 1940's. No muggle she had ever heard of or met before had ever done something so _revolutionary_. She heard awed mutterings from the crowd that reciprocated her own wonder. 

The car lifted about a foot off the ground, and leveled off for a couple of moments.

"Good God," Peggy said.

A spark in the front wheel flashed, and then a domino effect of flashing electric sparks plummeted the car to the ground. A loud _CRASH_ echoed off the stage, and the Stark Robotic Reversion equipment under the car exploded under lights of electric outages. 

A smattering of gasps and applause came from the crowd and Howard laughed lightly. "I did say a few years didn't I?" The clapping got louder and the music turned to something mellow and lethargic. People at the back end of the crowd began to disperse. 

He lifted a hand to the crowd. "Thank you, and good night. I'll see you all again next year!" He smiled once more for the audience and left to the side of the stage with the chorus girls following after him. 

Peggy stood from her chair and Hermione followed. Her friend gave her a pointed look. "I'll see you tomorrow in New Jersey?" 

Hermione gathered her things and nodded. "I've a flight out late tonight." 

"Good, I've got your uniform ready for you in your cabin when you arrive and your new papers. Congratulations are in order, you've been promoted to Agent."

"Agent?" Hermione asked. Uncertainty and pride mixing together in her stomach. 

"You've earned it," Peggy smiled warmly. "And it'll help you when we cross back to the front lines after Project Rebirth. Our mission will change once in Europe."

Hermione nodded. "I'll hand in my papers first thing in the morning."

Peggy gathered her own things and they parted ways with a smile.

* * *

Hermione's drink with Howard was cut short a little later when Mandy, the girl Howard had kissed on stage, came to say hello again to Howard.

"Well, I know when I'm unwanted," Hermione laughed as Mandy introduced herself. "I'll see myself out. Howard, congratulations on your first Expo, I'll see you later."

* * *

Hermione was walking around the Exhibitions of Stark Expo, not quite ready to go back to her hotel room, when a familiar voice called out to her. "Hermione?" 

She turned her head to the voice, and was pleasantly surprised to see Bucky standing off to the side with two women clearly waiting on him from behind. He was wearing his uniform, Sergeants patch clearly located on his sleeves, and her heart ached at the sight of it. "Bucky?" she asked, taking in the view. "Wha- What are you doing here?"

"Visiting the future," he said, and smiled with a tipped head forwards. He walked closer to her and Hermione reached out to envelope him in her arms. 

When he released her from the hug, Hermione looked up into his gaze. "You look well," she started, and ran her eyes over the uniform again. "Have you got your orders?"

He gave her a small salute. "The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes. Shipping out for England first thing tomorrow." 

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed. "So soon?" 

"Well, there's a War on you see," he said. Hermione rolled her eyes at the deflection. "Last I heard you were still over in Washington."

Hermione nodded. "I only just arrived this morning. I had a meeting with Howard for- well for work, and thought I'd pop in for the Expo as well. I had meant to send you and Steve a telegram, but I'll be leaving for New Jersey later tonight." 

"Howard _St__ark_?" Bucky asked, and Hermione nodded. He put his hands into his uniform pockets. "Didn't know you knew each other."

Hermione frowned at Bucky's answer and was blatantly reminded of Howard's reputation with women, even if the night's earlier performance hadn't. "Well he does manufacture a large portion of America's weapons into the War. You know I can't say much more than that, right?"

Bucky licked his lips, and opened his mouth before shutting it. He cleared his throat and tried again slowly. "And is it a _consulting_ business with Howard? Or-"

"_Bucky_," Hermione said, putting a hand to her chest and staring at him with wide eyes. "I know that he's not the most _popular_ with-"

"I'd say he's plenty popular doll," Bucky said lowly, and Hermione gasped. 

"Well yes, with _others_, but I would never- I can't believe you'd even suggest-" Heat filled her cheeks and and she drew herself up to her tallest height, swallowing hard. "As if it's even your _business_-"

Bucky placed both hands over the sides of her arms softly and looked down at her with a regretful frown. "I'm sorry doll, I've no right, I know, and no I don't think that you _are_. I just- I know the kind of man that Stark is and-"

"Really?" Hermione said, hurt and anger still rolling under her skin, but allowing his hands to stay in place. She pointedly looked over his shoulder at the _two_ women that were following after him. "And just what kind of man is he then, Sergeant Barnes?"

He followed her eyes and sighed. "It's not like that- I just- one of them was here for Steve," he tried explaining. 

Her anger fell away with the surprise that filled her. "Steve's here?" she asked. 

He swallowed and pulled his hands away. "That's why I- I didn't mean to suggest something Hermione-"

"Yes you did."

"-I just wanted to know if Steve still had his shot."

Hermione's eyes found their way back to the two women. "Clearly it doesn't matter either way. We're both grown adults-"

She tried to not let the hurt reach her face, as she had _no right to feel that way_. Steve and Hermione had never been on a 'date', not really. They traded letters, and telegrams, and saw each other when they could to see a film, or a baseball game or- but it had never gone farther than that, no matter what Hermione had thought she'd been reading into. It had been over seven months since she'd last seen him anyways. It would make sense that he had _other_ options. 

Bucky reached out again and held her shoulders. "It's not like that Hermione. I brought the other girl, it was _my idea_."

"Which he was open to-" Hermione started and crossed her arms over herself. "-which is fine, of course, because we're very good friends, and-"

"Doll, he's been holdin a torch for you since he met ya over a year ago. It's _not_ fine, and I put my foot in it this time."

Hermione's retort whooshed out of her lungs, and her hurt was replaced with a small, dazzling spark of hope. It surprised Hermione just how strong that new pull was. "Did he say that?" she asked quietly. 

Bucky frowned. "What? That he's been head over- Look, he's never been the kind that's just makes a pass at a dame, or doll dizzy Hermione. He's only ever been after one for over two years now. That's you."

Hermione felt the breath leave her body, and she had to look away. Her shoulders slumped and she tried to squash her new found feelings. "it doesn't- " She tried to say, but Bucky cut her off. 

"Don't start that with me now, I just saw it in your eyes. Don't lie to me."

She looked back to him and bit the inside of her lip. 

"Sarge? We still going dancin?" one of the women from behind him asked with her arm looped around the other. 

Bucky looked behind him and smiled. "Course we are, I'll be there in a jiffy!" he said and turned back to Hermione. 

"I know I shouldn't get the way I did because we're not going steady, but I don't want to hurt him Bucky," Hermione said, uncrossing her arms. "I don't want to start something- something _more_ if I'm not going to be around to finish it." 

Bucky frowned. "I thought you said you didn't have a place to go back to?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not in England, no, but I'm being reassigned after next week." She swallowed and held her hands together. "I'll be in Europe right after you, and I don't know what that future is going to hold. A lot can happen overseas. I don't know if I'll ever even come back."

"You're being deployed?" he asked, stepping closer and holding her shoulders again. His eyes were wide and looking frantically over her face as if he couldn't believe her words. 

She sighed. "I don't want him waiting on a dream," she confessed. 

"Don't you think that's his choice too?"

Hermione caught the women whispering to each other and she took a step back from Bucky's arms. "Yes, of course, but-"

"You should go find him and tell him," he interrupted. 

She bit on the inside of her lip again, before gathering her Gryffindor courage and coming to the same conclusion. "Alright, " she said and breathed out heavily, "but before I go, you be safe out there. I mean it, I haven't the friends to lose Bucky Barnes, so you keep your head down and come home when it's all over."

Bucky saluted her with a small smile and they traded a easy hug. "You tell him I said he's a jerk won't you?"

She smiled. "Do you know where he went?"

His smile turned hard. "Where else? The Recruiting Station."

Hermione felt her smile slip away. "Alright then. Goodbye Bucky."

"Bye doll," he answered, and Hermione slipped away through the crowd.

* * *

An hour and a half later, Hermione gave up her search. 

She had gone through every examination room, every waiting area, every hallway and office, but she hadn't found Steve. She couldn't find Abraham for that matter either, and wondered if he had given up his search too before making his way back to the hotel. 

Gathering her pride and ripped up confidence, Hermione returned to their hotel before her plane flight to New Jersey.

* * *

June 15th 1943

Hermione handed in her signed forms to the secretary under Colonel Phillips, and put her hands behind her back neatly as the other woman reviewed her packet. "The listed beneficiary of your Will?" she asked, flipping a page of the documents. 

"Agent Peggy Carter of the SSR. She is also listed as notification of kin," Hermione answered. 

The other woman nodded and stamped a section of the document. "Very well. Colonel Phillips is waiting in the back with Dr. Erskine with transportation to the volunteers."

"Wonderful, thank you ma'am," Hermione said and stepped through the appointed door to the outside. 

Colonel Phillips and Abraham were already waiting in the green painted Jeep when she made her way towards them. Colonel Phillips eyed her new green felt uniform with approval before nodding to the seat directly besides him up front. "Agent Granger," he said with a nod.

Hermione sat herself besides Colonel Phillips and smiled at the pair of men. "Good morning to you both. Thank you for waiting."

Colonel Phillips started the vehicle and moved forwards. "Agent Carter is already ahead of us, explaining to the new men her operational status in this division." 

"Very good," Hermione said, "and all nine have been accounted for?"

"We have ten this morning," Colonel Phillips answered with a good natured smile to the back seat. "Dr. Erskine picked himself up a volunteer last night at Stark's Expo."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, pushing down the urge to turn and look at her mentor. "We finally found one then?"

"Zhe perfect candidate," Dr. Erskine said confidently. 

Well then. Seven months _not_ wasted. 

"We're all gonna meet him soon. Looks like Agent Carter is just getting to say hi," Colonel Phillips said. 

The Jeep came to a stop before a row of soldiers in attention just as Peggy threw a punch at a familiar face from DC seven months ago. The smug smirk of Private Gilmore Hodge connected with Peggy's fist and he crumpled to the ground, his body swinging in a near 180 twist at the force of her contact. 

"Agent Carter!" Colonel Phillips called, stepping out of the vehicle and moving towards the line of men. 

Hermione hid her satisfaction at the form of Hodge as she removed herself from the vehicle and saw Peggy straightening up. "Colonel Phillips," she answered evenly with a salute. 

Colonel Phillips walked past her to look at the downed form of his favored recruit. "I see you’re breaking in the candidates. That’s good!" he said. 

Hermione stopped besides Peggy and they put both their hands behind their backs in attention as Colonel Phillips took another step towards Private Hodge. "Get your ass up out of that dirt and stand in that line at attention 'til somebody comes tells you what to do," he said flatly. 

Hodge got to his feet quickly and tilted his head up to stop the stream of blood flowing from his nose. "Yes Sir," he called back, and Hermione nearly scoffed at the sight. To his credit, his eyes didn't waiver from Colonel Phillips after he'd had his ass handed to him by Peggy. 

Colonel Phillips eyed the men at attention as he placed his hands behind his back. "General Patton has said that wars are fought with weapons but they are won by men" he started, walking down the line. Hermione followed his gaze. "Now, we are going to win this war because we have the best ... men…" he trailed off for a moment, and stood directly in front of Hermione, staring at a recruit she couldn't see. "And because they’re gonna get better. _Much_ better." 

Colonel Phillips moved on down the line, and Hermione's eyes took note of the soldier he had stopped on. Her eyes grew wide.

Steven Rogers, dressed in an oversized uniform of the surrounding recruits, stood at attention with the rest of the men, staring directly at Hermione.

"The Strategic Scientific Reserve is an Allied effort made up of ..."

Hermione didn't hear the rest of Colonel Phillips speech as the entirety of her attention was focused on the man before her. 

_What in the name of Merlin was he doing here?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you wondering, yes, Peggy got her 10% too.  
  
And yes, I did take lines from the movie on this. No, it will not always reflect the conversations of the movie. Its a general outline for the start. Hermione is here to change some points moving forwards. Thank Merlin for Disney +
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Mitchell Tenpenny - Goner](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zCptE0OItc8)


	8. Project Rebirth

* * *

"I hope you're dancing in the sky  
And I hope you're singing in the angel's choir"

\- Dani and Lizzy, "Dancing In the Sky"

* * *

* * *

June 15th 1943

Hermione tracked Steve's thin shoulders as he made his way to the mess hall. He and his fellow volunteers had unpacked their bags, and they play fought with each other ahead of him. Steve put his hands in his pockets and avoided swinging elbows on the way to dinner.

"Problem?" Peggy asked, coming up from somewhere behind. She helped watch the group of men march away.

"Steve," Hermione answered honestly. 

"Yes, the newest volunteer," Peggy breathed out with a furrowing brow. "Dr. Erskine's pick from last night in New York. Phillip's isn't impressed. To be fair, after reviewing his medical files, neither am I." She shook her head in thought. "He's been listed as having asthma, high blood pressure, heart trouble, colorblindness, and a weak immune system that's left him with scarlet and rheumatic fever in the past. Now while the serum is theoretically able to fix his list of ailments, he's not what one would call standard US Military or SSR material."

"Don't shut the door in his face just yet," Hermione said, unable to look away from Steve's retreating back. "He might surprise you."

Peggy blinked. "I didn't say I would. I know what it's like to have people shut every door because of the way you look." She glanced back to Hermione and raised a brow. "Already taking Abraham's side Agent? We haven't even reviewed training yet."

"No Peggy," Hermione said, "It's worse than that. That's _him_ from Brooklyn. _My_ Steve." She met her friend's gaze with wide eyes. 

Peggy was confused for a moment before her eyebrows drew up in surprise, and she turned sharply to scope out the shortest man on base. "That's him?" she asked, her lips growing tight in her focus. "The one who always writes to you?"

"And sends me Christmas presents when I'm out of state," Hermione nodded faintly. "Who send me drawings of home so I don't miss the changing seasons. Who held onto baseball tickets for months just to see if I could get away for a day to watch a game together. Who comes back with a new bruise every time I see him because he _refuses_ to walk away from- ."

Peggy turned to study Hermione's face. "He-" Hermione swallowed and felt a surge of fear and anxiety sweep over her. She crossed her arms over her stomach and clenched her teeth. 

Peggy stepped softly closer. "When did this happen?" 

Steve's group of men disappeared into the mess, and Hermione remained unmoving in the dying light of the New Jersey sunset. She didn't try to deflect or lie her way around Peggy's question. They knew each other too well for that now. "I don't know," Hermione answered truthfully. "Yesterday? A year ago? Just now?"

Peggy looked between her eyes. "Did he tell you?"

"That he was here? No," Hermione shook her head. "I haven't seen him in months, not since I left to take the tour of Uncle Sam's bases."

"And Dr. Erskine?"

"Peggy, I didn't know until I saw him lined up with the others this morning. I hadn't a clue."

Hermione felt the taller woman's hand curl over her shoulder, and Hermione grabbed on like a lifeline. They sat in silence as the sun continued to set, because what could be said? Hermione knew what these men were here to do, and _damn_ if it didn't make sense that Steve, _her Steve_, would be the first to step in line too. To volunteer himself as a lab rat for the good of America, her soldiers, and the Allies in the War. 

Anxiety ballooned in her chest. 

And with her serum. Her brainchild of nearly three years with Abraham. 

What if it went all wrong?

What if the Vita Rays didn't react to the serum and the electromagnetic radiation just turned his insides to mush?

What if the serum didn't bond with the proteins of his cellular fibers and his molecular density was liquefied under the strain?

These were calculated theories and risks, Hermione knew full well, as they had never properly tested the entire process on a living being before. And Merlin, what if it all happened to him?

"Hermione you're going to give yourself an attack," Peggy said, shaking her roughly from her thoughts. 

Air hit her lungs in a gasp, and Hermione realized dimly that she hadn't been breathing. "What if I-"

"-kill him?" Peggy asked neatly, because she knew the risks too. Not the full understanding of each equation, but she got the process of a sticky ending. "You won't."

"I-"

"You _won't_."

But they might, and they both knew it. Hermione had no idea how to put this all in a letter to Bucky. 

* * *

June 16th 1943

"Recruits!" Colonel Phillips barked early the next morning, causing everyone in earshot to stand a little straighter in attention. The row of recruits focused directly ahead, and Hermione purposefully skimmed over Steve's eyes as she watched the Colonel walk back and forth in front of their row. 

"By the end of this week one of you will demonstrate not only the physical conditions of a soldier in your position, but also the mental agility, the moral integrity, and the American _tenacity_ of something more." Colonel Phillips stopped and folded his hands behind his back. "Agent Carter, Agent Granger, Sergeant Duffy, and myself will take turns overseeing the training in this operation until we have the one man who will personally escort Adolf Hitler to the gates of Hell. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Sir!" they echoed in unison. 

"Good. Training starts now. Lets go on a run boys. Five miles. Agent Carter, with me on this," he said as he made his way to to the Jeep Hummer. 

Hermione stood next to Peggy and Sergeant Duffy off to the side, clipboard in hand, as she felt the beginnings of New Jersey's oppressive humidity curl at the base of her neck. She handed her clipboard to Peggy and turned to the Officers Cabins as Sergeant Duffy called the men into column and began their run. She'd like to say that she felt the warmth of a pair of eyes follow her as she left, but it was probably just the New Jersey heat. 

Hermione made it to her own cabin and sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. Determined to avoid the wallow of foul emotions surrounding her, Hermione closed her eyes and placed her hands on the tops of her bent knees. She let her thoughts dwindle away as she began to control her breathing. She wiped the feelings she'd been fretting over for the past three days away from her center of self, and opened her palms to the ceiling of her room. As she counted the exhale of her breaths, she worked her way through several occlumency exercises. The thin and crumbling walls of her mind that had once stood so thick and proud after the War blatantly demonstrated the large volume of time she had ignored her mental lessons. 

Hermione removed herself from the outside world, and passed the time by strengthening her shields and carefully organizing her mental state into something more manageable. By the time Hermione heard the knock of her dorm door and resurfaced from her isolation, the morning sun outside her shuttered window had dipped entirely to the other side of the horizon. Hermione got up from the bed slowly. 

The expectation of seeing Peggy or Abraham with a summons to dinner vanished when Hermione opened her door and looked slightly down at a mop of blonde hair. "Steve?" she blinked in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

He still wore his PT trousers and shirt, dirt smudged across his arms and under his chin. He looked at her with wide eyes and swallowed. "Herm- ma'am, I know I'm not supposed to be here right now, but I had to-" 

Passerby's on their way to dinner glanced with raised brows and nudging elbows at the Private standing in front of her cabin door, and Hermione made a quick decision to take whatever this was away from her room. She stepped forwards into Steve's space, and he choked on his words as she closed the door behind her. "Let's take a walk," she said, eyeing the passing soldiers and keeping her hands to her side. 

Steve followed her gaze and fell in line to her right. They made their way in the opposite direction of the flowing crowd, and stopped by the Postal Office near the front gates. A few stragglers to dinner walked by, but it was clear that the draw of the nights food pulled more than the temptation of eavesdropping. 

Hermione placed her hands behind her back and put more than a respectful amount of distance between the both of them before facing Steve. 

He mirrored her pose and met her gaze with unblinking, careful eyes. "I didn't know you worked here," he stated firmly, starting off. The flex of his jaw echoed the earnest cut of his words as he continued on, "I had no idea that takin Dr. Erskine's offer meant that I'd be workin in the same place Hermione, I swear. I didn't just say yes because I-"

Hermione blinked at his words and frowned as they processed across her own thoughts. "Wait," she interrupted and frowned further. "Do you think, that _I_ think, that you ... followed me here?" she asked. 

Steve froze. Hermione swore she could see the sinking of his chest as he exhaled. "Don't ya?" he said instead. 

The smell of unwashed man carried from the wind, and she grimaced. "Of course not. Not at all."

Surprise crossed his face. "Oh."

Hermione almost rolled her eyes to the heavens and asked Merlin to strike her where she stood. "Oh _h__onestly_ Steven-"

"You looked like you'd swallowed a lemon whole when you saw me up there!" Steve burst out, and Hermione retracted her future words. 

Hermione was on the cusp of telling a white lie, something easier to dismiss, when she remembered Bucky's voice from only a few days ago. "_Don't you think that's his choice too?"_

Her Gryffindor courage escaped her and she pulled her arms in around herself, biting her lip. "I was scared," she admitted quietly. 

Steve's eyes widened. Clearly that wasn't what he'd been expecting. "Scared?"

She looked around at the military base, and the setting sun of another day. "This project you volunteered for yesterday with Abraham- Dr. Erskine, I've been working on for nearly three years. This is what I've been doing with the military for so long," she explained. "And seven months ago I was tasked with finding the right subject, the right volunteer, to be the lab rat for it." She stared at him. "I was terrified when I first saw you Steve, because I couldn't- I can't distinguish between just another soldier, another volunteer, from my friend. You have to understand how difficult this procedure is going to be, and what it could possibly do to you."

"You think it's gonna kill me?" he asked, going for the worst. "Any one of us?"

Hermione was unable to look him in eyes. "It could," she admitted. "It'll be the first full trial on a human. It could very well turn you into a puddle, or turn you to ash."

The grounds were silent and she heard Steve swallow. "If those are the risks," Steve said slowly, and Hermione met his eyes again, "I'll still do it." _Because of course he would_. "And it's not - see, this isn't about me. There are men, women, layin down their lives every single day. I got no right to do anything less." 

_"And that is when we vill know," Dr. Erskine said, tapping his nose at her with a conspiring smile and pouring her another shot of vodka. "-zhe makings of a truly good man."_

She swallowed. She wanted to argue, yell at Steve for coming to such a conclusion, but the familiarity of his conviction settled farther in Hermione's bones than in just the current conversation. It reminded her of Harry; the set of his shoulders and the power in his gaze when he came to a decision. Knowing that even at his worst moment, even when he had the free choice, he would do the right thing for everyone else.

Memories of her oldest friend rushed to the surface of her mind, and Hermione had to turn away quickly to shove the threat of useless tears down her throat. 

"Hermione?"

She waved her hand away at his tone, and swallowed down the familiar ache of her loss several times. "It's nothing," she said, gathering her composure in a deep breath and turning back to him. "You've just - you reminded me just now of a dear friend."

Steve's gaze became immediately softer. "From home?"

Her past home. Hogwarts and the renewed Potter mansion. James, Albus, little Lily. Ron's first on the way. She nodded. 

He opened his mouth before shutting it again, and his shoulders hung sadly. "I'm sorry."

She smiled slightly at the genuine empathy. "Don't be. Seeing you has just reminded me of everything I have now here in America. At home in New York."

His eyes snapped up to her, and Hermione felt the tingling of brash, school yard bravery sneaking up her back. "Of everything I want there, and don't want to loose."

His gaze switched between her eyes, like he was trying to find something in her expression, and he stepped closer with determination in the press of his lips. "I've -"

Whatever he was going to say was washed away with the sound of the evening tocsin ringing across base, signaling the close of dinner. The echoed peals of the great bell broke whatever charge was hanging in the air between them, and Hermione took a step back. Her courage was gone again. "You should get some dinner before it's gone Private Rogers," she said, forcibly removing herself from the moment and reeling in her thumping heart. She put her arms behind her back to fist her hands together, and she surveyed the empty camp around them as a distraction. Her mouth felt dry. "You have a long rest of the week ahead of you. You should... you should get ready for it."

Steve's mouth still hung open from his past words, and he snapped it closed with a swallow. She watched as he came to some sort of decision with himself and nodded. "Yes ma'am." His eyes held onto hers for another moment before he turned on his heel and made his way to the mess. 

Hermione watched his retreating back. She released a shaking breath and followed after him to her cabin for the night. 

She needed to find Abraham's bottle of vodka.

* * *

June 17th 1943

Hermione confessed to Abraham about Steve the very next day before training began.

They had sat close together in the Officer's Dining Hall over toast and a cup of tea, and he blinked in shock at the coincidence. He knew Hermione's Steve, as he had often found a letter in her hands from him during their trip across the US, or showed him a sketch that he had made in their down time. "Truly? Zhe same man?" 

Hermione nodded and Abraham smiled thoughtfully. "You have spoken of him many times, but never had I thought of a face," he said. "But always bravery was mentioned."

She grinned. "More than he has common sense sometimes."

He gave her a small smile, and took a sip of his Earl Gray. "Did I tell you that he tried to enlist five times before I found him?"

Hermione's eyes went wide. "No, he never mentioned."

* * *

June 21st 1943

As the days passed, remaining impartial to the recruits became rather difficult, Hermione decided.

Her assignment was to observe and report the physical wellness and attitude of each volunteer throughout training. As she had personally reviewed every recruits file more times than she cared to count, she logically knew who could perform in the best areas provided. Private Hodge, Colonel Phillips favored man, was an easy standout for his ability to follow orders, his glowing recommendation from Washington, and his higher than average physical fitness. He had volunteered for the Army the day after Pearl Harbor, along with many of the other recruits. They were all standard military men. Tall, strong, competent, and followed the chain of command without thought. 

Steve on the other hand, Hermione had noticed, was mostly the complete opposite of his fellow recruits. When Hermione watched the other men perform over one hundred push-ups in a single sitting, Steve was struggling with nearly thirty. When asked to clear the ropes course with other recruits, Steve would get caught in the small footing, trip, and dangle dangerously off the structure while the others moved through efficiently around him. 

However unlike the others, Steve seemed to use his mind more than he used his body. As Hermione continued to study everyone's progress, she noticed that Steve would strategize before attempting any action. The ten mile run and Flag Test was an appropriate example of this as the others had simply heard an order and moved to execute, while Steve had watched, tried a different approach, and then got to sit in the Jeep with Hermione and Peggy as the rest of the men ran the remainder of the course. 

It was hard then for Hermione not to be impartial as an Agent in the Operation, for she could see just how much _better_ Steve would be than the others based solely off his actions and thought process. How much better his potential as a super soldier would be compared to any another volunteer here bulked up and sent on their way like a bull injected with steroids.

Putting the need for impartial emotion aside, Hermione also recognized how much he deserved the _chance_ to be more than what his body forced him to be now.

Hermione didn't put that last bit in her reports as being _impartial_ really was necessary in the Operation's process, but Abraham seemed to be able to read between the lines and he agreed. 

The day before the Project Rebirth's trial training came to an end, Hermione and Peggy stood watch over the recruits while they executed another push-up exercise.

Peggy watched each recruit like a hawk, walking up and down the line. "Faster, ladies! Come on. My _grandmother_ has more life in her, God rest her soul. Move it!"

Hermione heard Colonel Phillips and Abraham walk up together from behind, and she tapped her pencil on her clipboard to get Peggy's attention. As Peggy turned to the sound, Hermione overheard the Colonel and Abraham's conversation. "- throw me a bone. Hodge passed every test we gave him. He’s big, he’s fast, he obeys orders. He’s a soldier."

Hermione grimaced, coming to a conclusion on what they'd been discussing, and kept her eyes forwards. 

"He's a bully," Abraham argued flatly, and she nearly grinned. 

Peggy got the recruits to their feet in attention as the Colonel and Abraham paused at a supplies truck just behind her.

"You don’t win wars with niceness, doctor. You win war with guts," she head the Colonel say, and then the faint _ting_ of metal scraping against something.

She watched as a small object was lodged over her head into the thick of the recruits, and her eyes trained on what looked to be a small metal cylinder come to a stop before Private Hodge. Hermione's eyes widened.

"Grenade!" Colonel Phillips yelled. 

The recruits bolted into action, splitting apart into a dozen directions as Hermione reached up into her shirt sleeve for her wand. Her fingers grabbed the edge of its' handle, but her arm was pulled back sharply by someone from behind, forcing her momentum to swing into a 180 rotation. She came face to face with Abraham, and her expression melted from furious to confusion in a split second. "Wha-"

"Get away! Get back!" a familiar voice shouted, and Hermione turned back around with wide eyes. 

Steve was curled up into a ball on the dusty ground, his body wrapped around the grenade, eyes slammed shut and brow furrowed; waiting for the inevitable. 

Hermione's heart stopped in her chest.

After several careful moments, soldiers started to stand up from their crouch. Peggy, who Hermione had seen jumping towards the explosive like Steve, stood straight and put her hands on her hips. 

"It's a dummy grenade," an officer from farther back announced, and people closer to the event started to stand up, dusting themselves off. "All clear. Back in formation."

Steve slowly began to uncurl himself on the ground and sat up. He blinked heavily at the dust and sun on his face, adrenaline and confusion plain over his features. "Is this a test?" 

Relief swept over Hermione, hard and breathtaking. She grinned brilliantly at the man. 

"He's still skinny," Colonel Phillips said with dour criticism, and she heard his footsteps wander away. 

Steve got to his feet and Abraham stood closer at Hermione's side. "Well. It seems we have our soldier."

Hermione wasn't sure if she should feel elation and pride or fearful anxiousness.

* * *

Later That Night

Hermione knocked once on Steve's barracks door, before letting herself in.

"Steve?" she called. She made a turn into an open doorway and found a row of empty beds lining a short hall with mattresses folded over in the middle. Steve's bed was the only one left in the room, and the occupant stood from the edge he'd been sitting on as he saw her walk further in. 

"Hermione!" he said, "I didn't think I'd get to see you until the procedure tomorrow."

She came to a stop just across from the shorter man and gave him a small smile. "I wanted to congratulate you," she said. "And to apologize for earlier this week."

Steve's smile dimmed and he hesitated with a response. "What for?"

"My apology? Well for the way I went about our conversation. And said it. And walked away from- there's a couple reasons actually."

"Did you-," he swallowed and put his hands behind his back. His silver name tags hung loose from the stark white t shirt he wore and glinted in the setting sun from outside. "Do you regret it?"

Hermione felt the many layers in that question. She bit her lip and took a seat on the edge of mattress opposite him. She gestured for him to follow, and he did. She swallowed. "Did you know that I was at the Stark Expo in New York last week and ran into Bucky?"

The uptick of his eyebrows answered her question. 

"Well, I did. I'd just flown in and was wandering around the exhibits when Bucky found me," she decided to leave out the two extra women in that moment. "We got caught up for a while and eventually I asked where you were." Steve studied her. "That led on to a different conversation, and at first, it made me uncomfortable. Not because I didn't like the answers to the questions that I'd been asking, but because I didn't know what to do with them, and I didn't know if I had the courage to act on it."

Steve swallowed. "What kinda answers did you find?" 

"The kind that would make impartial judgment calls _impossible_ to deliver," she answered honestly. Steve was silent across from her, his chest barely moving, as if he was afraid to breathe. "And at first I wasn't going to say anything because this-" she waved her hand to the barracks, "-all of this-was just one of the many stops on the road forwards. The goal of this Project was to perfect the modern soldier and move to the front lines. Europe is next, and I didn't want to be another sad goodbye at a train station." 

He leaned forwards. "Hermione-"

"Which of course Bucky told me was useless, as a relationship isn't just one person," she hurried on, trying to organize her words so he would understand the lot of it. "Then I realized that a whole other problem was taking place because then you were _here_ and _volunteering_ and the entirety of my work for the past three years could end everything before I even got the chance to-" Hermione shook her head. "To do anything. Make a choice."

Steve was still leaning forwards, and he looked between her eyes. There was still confusion hidden in his depths, but also a breathless excitement, and the smallest glimmer of hope. "And have you? Made that choice?"

Her own chest felt hollow, like she could take flight with the barest of winds and fly away in any direction, but it was the hope in his eyes that let her mouth go on. "I don't know where I stand with... you. Or even how you feel, but I'm scared of how much you mean to me," she said, "and I don't want to loose you." She started to say something more, but stamped down on the need to throw any more of her turbulent emotions at him. She shut her mouth and clenched her jaw. 

"_Doll-_," Steve said, and Hermione's eyes widened at the word. Steve had never called her that before. Bucky yes, but only because he was _Bucky_ and he could get away with murder before anyone called him out on those baby blues, but never Steve. "- Hermione, you've gotta know I've been carrying a torch for you since- well, since our first Dodgers game."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "But that's when we first met!" 

Steve shrugged with a small smile. "It wasn't up to me. You were wearing the prettiest blue color hat and jacket I'd ever seen. Standing all by yourself, no one helpin you-"

"-until you."

"-And then you smiled at me," he confessed with far away look, "You smiled at me, and laughed a little, and I just- I don't know, I lost it. Never looked back."

Hermione felt warmth rise up from her collar bones. She hadn't been in a relationship in many _many_ years, but she was certain she'd never felt so _dazzled_ before by someone until now. "Is that, " she paused, "something you really want?"

"Yeah," Steve replied without hesitation, and Hermione's heart just _lifted_. "And I know that I can't give you anything- I don't have even a dollar to my name- but I'd really like the chance to try."

She nodded along with his words, her insides flying higher and higher. "Alright."

"Yeah?" he asked, and a full blown smile lit his face

"Yes," Hermione answered with a matching expression.

Hermione had unconsciously moved forwards on the edge of the mattress, leaning into Steve's space, when she heard the sharp knock on the barrack door outside. She jumped to her feet just as Steve did in surprise. She turned to look over her shoulder and saw Abraham walking in with two glasses in one hand and- was that his bottle of vodka?

He hovered at the door when he saw the pair of them standing close between the beds. He raised an eyebrow. "May I?" 

Hermione moved away quickly. "Yes of course! I'll just-"

"Agent Peggy said that she vas looking for you?"

Hermione nodded, taking the exit that was offered. "I'll find her right away. Thank you Doctor." She turned to Steve, "I'll see you at your procedure tomorrow Private Rogers." 

He gave her a small smile and nodded, and Hermione looked to Abraham once more before she walked out of the barracks and closed the door behind her.

A thought came to her and she opened the door back up. Abraham and Steve swiveled to look around, and she pointed a stubborn finger to Abraham. "He has a procedure tomorrow, no fluids," she said looking at the bottle of vodka and then pointed the finger at Steve threateningly. "Don't even think about it. Alright?" Both men nodded blankly in tandem, and Hermione smiled at their confirmation before closing the door behind her again.

She stood here for a moment, frozen in front of Steve's barrack doors, hearing the faint murmuring of the men beyond. She breathed out slowly, thinking over all of tonight's events, before her brain caught up with her actions. 

_Starting a relationship is bad_, a part of herself thought. _What happens when you find a way home and have to say goodbye?_ She mostly dismissed this fear as soon as it came. Her research so far had indicated that nothing would be able to bring her home except for the minuscule chance of getting her hands on the tesseract again. And even that was questionable, because what if it just send her to another dimension again? Worse, what if it just killed her?

_And what about your history?_ the same voice in her consciousness asked viciously. _A dimension jumping, time traveling, witch? Would he even think to look at you the same way again if you told him what you were? What you've already done? _ and Hermione tried to ignore that question as well. _When_ she told him, because she would tell someone she cared for, not if, about who she used to be and where she'd grown up, she was sure that a man like Steve Rogers would be able to understand and move forwards. 

_Are you though?_ the voice asked. _Would you like to run an arithmetic equation on how sure you are? Or do you fear that as well? The brave Gryffindor who helped defeat Voldemort. _

Hermione blinked away the rising anxiety and shoved down her fears, locking them away in a dark section of her mind, before she made her way back to her cabin.

* * *

June 22nd 1943

Hermione wasn't able to sleep that night. She reviewed all of her research and equations over and over again, looking for any possible mistakes. She pored over her numbers, made multiple cups of tea, and flicked her wand at the phonograph in the corner of her room to keep the night at bay.

When Abraham came for her in the early morning so they could make it to Brooklyn and start prepping the equipment, Hermione was shuffling all of her papers back into order. He noticed the bags under her eyes and frizziness to her hair with a raised eyebrow. "Have you been awake all night?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"Zhe serum has been finished for weeks now, you know this."

She nodded, but continued to pack the remaining items of her possessions away in silence. 

He didn't say anything else as she finished and they walked out the door together. They got on a plane with Colonel Phillips and Sergeant Duffy, and Hermione watched as the clouds passed beneath them in a daze. Abraham and Hermione then took separate cars than the officers to the underground facility that doubled as an antique shop in Brooklyn. 

After they had arrived, Hermione went to shower and change into her white coat and uniform, liberally applying makeup to the undersides of her eyes before swiping on lipstick. When she walked into the operating room of the facility, Howard and Abraham were waiting for her. Howard took one look at her and immediately held out a cup of coffee he'd been holding near his chest. "Christ Granger, it looks like you haven't slept in a week."

"Language Howard," Hermione admonished, accepting his cup of coffee gratefully, and looking around the room before taking a small sip. "Have you started?"

"Live and ready to go."

Hermione nodded and looked to her mentor. "Where do you want me?"

Abraham adjusted his glasses. "With me of course," he answered. 

Hermione smiled and they began their work. 

A little after noon, Abraham watched as Hermione recalibrated a machine that a doctor under Stark had dismissed. She flipped a switch, turned a dial, and motioned to Stark from across the room. "Operational!" Howard made a mark on a sheet of paper in front of him, and Hermione turned to Abraham steady gaze. "Did you find an error in my work?" she asked, noting the concentration. 

He smiled lightly. "Never _klein_ time traveler. I only wish to watch."

Hermione blinked. "Oh," she said. "Alright." She turned to another machine and examined the dial it held. "Do you think we're ready?"

"The serum is complete," he said, mirroring his words from earlier this morning. "There is nothing more to do."

"Except hope that it works," she said, turning to face him. 

"It vill work," he said, and motioned to the machine behind her. "I have had zhe best assistant there is to offer."

Hermione smiled at him. "I wish I had your confidence."

He gave her a shallow frown and raised an eyebrow. "You vill see. Our work will be completed today, and it will stop Hydra."

Hermione put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a comforting squeeze. "Your family would be proud."

He looked at her over the tops of his gold rimmed glasses. "Yes, they would, but I am already proud. Zhe best part of my work was not the serum, no, but working with the best of the future." He lifted a finger and pointed at her brain. "This," he said, and then pointed to her heart, "and this, have been a privilege to teach. My only regret is that we did not meet sooner, under better circumstances."

Hermione smiled warmly at him. "We have plenty of time for the rest of forever," she said, holding the eyes of the man she had come to feel for as a father. "I have enjoyed every moment that I have been able to learn under you," she said, "and look forwards to many years more."

He smiled and placed a curl that had escaped her bun behind her ear. "Come _klein_ time traveler, let us help your soldier."

Hermione immediately spluttered. "He's not my- we're not-"

"The walls of the barracks are not thick," he said, looking over at her from the tops of his glasses again. "And even if you two aren't _now_, you will be." He smiled. "He is a good man." 

Hermione felt heat flood her face at the thought of Abraham hearing Steve and her's conversation, but nodded in agreement. "He is."

* * *

Later that day

Hermione watched as Steve laid down into the shuttle looking pod that Stark had designed and programmed. He wore no shirt, and Hermione could see goosebumps rise to the top of his skin as he settled himself against the padded framework. He swallowed down his nerves, and Hermione and Abraham walked forwards to stand on either side of the pod. 

"Comfortable?" Abraham asked first, as Steve rotated his shoulders. 

Steve smiled and looked down at the pod. "It's a little big," he joked lightly, but Hermione had to agree. The pod was meant for a man nearly a foot taller that Steve, and it dwarfed his already small appearance. 

Abraham laughed lightly, running his eyes over the machinery, diligently looking for anything wrong again. Hermione followed after him, but found herself staring at the man she'd committed to trying a relationship out with yesterday.

Steve didn't look to her as he asked Abraham, "Save me any of that vodka?"

Abraham looked mildly regretful. "Not as much as I should have. Sorry. Next time," he met Hermione's eyes over Steve and smiled again. "_Ja?_"

Steve looked to Hermione for the first time, and she gave them both a warm smile. "I think we can all spare the time for a drink after this, don't worry." She watched him attempt a grin and then it fall flat. Hermione searched his eyes. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Determination shot through him, thick and strong. "You know I do."

"I wouldn't think less of you."

One side of his mouth tugged up, looking a little sour. "I would."

She blinked and looked away, motioning to the side with a small nod of her head. "I'll only be a few feet away the whole time. You won't be alone."

Something loosened in Steve's posture and Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder. Behind them, the photographer that was hired by Stark snapped a shot, nearly blinding Hermione's peripherals with its' bright light. She geared herself to turn around and bite the man's head off, but Abraham was faster and gave the man a look that might have even frightened the Colonel. 

He watched the photographer retreat and then called out to the rest of the room, "Mr. Stark, how are your levels?"

"Dandy Doctor. Levels at 100 percent," Howard answered walking up from a team of scientists in the corner. He stopped besides Steve's bed and took in the image of the smaller soldier in the pod. "We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we’ll ever be." He glanced up at Hermione. "You okay doll?"

"_Dandy_ Howard, thank you," Hermione answered, struggling not to roll her eyes in front of the senator and his team in the viewing box. He just grinned and moved back to his station among the equipment. 

Steve looked to her with wide eyes, clearly trying to not ask a question that he knew he didn't need to know, but Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's a friend. The pushy type in most cases, just relax." 

Before Steve could answer, Abraham was standing in front of the viewing box with a microphone in his hands. "Ladies and gentlemen, today we take _not_ another step towards annihilation, but the first step on the path to peace. We begin with a series of micro injections into zhe subjects major muscle groups." Hermione and another nurse dressed in white opened the container holding the serum, and withdrew the many blue vials that fit snugly into the pod. "The serum infusion will cause immediate cellular change. And then to stimulate growth, the subject will be saturated with Vita-Rays," he said. 

The nurse took a needle from the side and injected Steve at the top of his arm. He breathed out slowly as she withdrew the metal and walked away. He cleared his throat, "That wasn't so bad."

Tension was thick in the room, and Hermione nearly laughed.

Abraham didn't, and said flatly, "That was penicillin." Steve gave him a look and Abraham almost shrugged back as if he was saying, 'eh, what can you do?' before he looked to the scientists around the room manning the equipment. He met Hermione's eyes, and gave her a shallow nod. 

Hermione swallowed and held her head up high. "Serum infusion," she called out to the surrounding scientists, "beginning in: Five. Four." The arm guard threaded with needles came down on Steve's skin. Hermione hid her wince. "Three, Two," she put a hand on Steve's shoulder as Abraham did the same on the other side. This would not be fun. "One."

A switch was flipped and the blue colored serum vials emptied themselves into Steve's body. Steve clenched his teeth, and opened his eyes to the ceiling, clearly holding back the urge to scream. 

Hermione grimaced and nodded back to Abraham. 

The older scientist looked over his shoulder. "Now Mr. Stark," Abraham commanded, and Hermione heard an additional switch flip. 

She removed her hands away from Steve as the pod began to rise and turn perpendicular to the floor, the green tint of the metal flashing against the florescent lighting. The lids of the pod began to close in around Steve and Hermione took several steps back to watch as he was enveloped beneath the metal. Scientists attached an electrical looking tube to the top of the pod that Hermione recognized as the electrical current for the Vita-Rays. _Half way through_, she told herself. 

Abraham knocked on the front of the pod and called Steve's name. "Can you hear me?" he asked. Hermione was too far away to hear what was said back, but when Abraham had turned around, he had a grin on his face. "We will proceed," he announced and looked towards Howard. 

Howard took his verbal que and began to turn a dial on the machine in front of him. A low rumbling echoed through the chamber and Hermione lifted a pair of Vita-glasses to over her eyes, giving one to Abraham as well. Howard moved to another separate machine and began to turn a metal wheel clockwise slowly. "That's 10 percent," he called out, and the room was filled with a bright white light from the pod. 

Hermione bit her lip and watched the glow of light in the chamber continue to increase. 

"20 percent," Howard called, continuing his slow climb. "Thirty. Forty."

"Vital signs are normal," another scientist called out. 

"That's 50 percent," Howard said, watching the levels increase even further. "Sixty. Seventy."

At almost 80 percent, Steve started screaming. 

Hermione's eyes widened and she flew forwards at the sound. "Shut it down!" she called, panic gripping her heart and turning her insides to ice. 

"Steven!" Abraham rushed to the pod and pounded on the metal door as the white light got brighter and brighter. "Steven!"

"Shut it down!" Hermione called again, and this time was echoed by Peggy coming out of the viewing room. "Now! Shut it down!"

Dr. Erskine flipped around from the pod and pointed to Howard. "Kill the reactor Mr. Stark!" he said racing forwards. "Turn it off. Kill it! Kill the reactor!" 

Howard moved farther down to another machine and Hermione felt her panic rise through Steve's screams. "Howard!"

"I'm on it! I-" Howard said lifting his hands to a large switch. 

"NO!" screamed a voice from inside the pod, Steve, and Hermione's heart nearly stopped in her chest again. "DON'T!" he screamed and the iridescence of the Vita-Rays from his pod layered the room in a shining milky light, "I CAN DO THIS."

Panic flooded Hermione's mind, and she gaped at the light where Steve was hidden. She felt frozen at his words. 

Howard apparently had no such dispositions, and moved back to the metal wheel. He put his hands down on his machinery and immediately continued moving.

Hermione remained like stone as the light continued to climb higher and higher throughout the room. She didn't dare move forwards now, or she didn't know what she'd do. _Bombard_ the metal shielding that held Steve, or tackle Howard to he ground. "Merlin please," she said without breath or thought.

"80. 90," Howard called, and then- "That's 100 percent!" The electricity of the pod began to hum loudly. 

For a moment or two, nothing longer than that, the bright light held.

Then, Hermione saw electric sparks flash from the equipment around the room, jutting off frantically like fireworks in an evening sky, before everything fell silent, and the equipment died. Suffocating silence filled the area, and smoke slid off the green tint of the pod. Vita glasses slid off of faces, and people in the viewing room stood up in anticipation. 

Hermione discarded her own glasses. "Howard!" she called, and then immediately, the doors disengaged.

The room seemed to hold it's breath as the green lids of metal sprang apart and florescent lighting reflected off the subject inside.

Hermione's mouth dropped open. 

Instead of the goo or ash that Hermione had feared would be left of such an extreme treatment, stood instead, something completely _else_. An enormously tall, heavily muscled, sweat layered man leaned laboriously against the padded framework inside. A chiseled jaw was tipped forwards into the air, gasping at oxygen into a barrel wide chest that flexed with protruding muscles. Where thin pale arms had once been, stood instead fully defined brawny limbs, laying thick next to the expanse of his ribs. Her eyes widened, all common sense abandoning her and leaving her stupid, completely unable to process the data that was flaunting itself an arm length away. 

Gone was the skinny, sickly, five foot four man, and instead stood a behemoth of a soldier, heavy with planes of layered muscles and sharp angles. Gone was _Steve_.

Abraham was the first to recover from the paralyzing shock. He surged forwards as the opening doors settled into place, and he put his arm around the man to help him step out of the pod. Howard was on his other side, hands pressed against the swell of his abs, as Steve took stumbling steps forwards. "I- I did it," he breathed out hard. 

"_Ja... Ja,_" Abraham tipped his head at Hermione and smiled with blinding satisfaction and joy. "We did it."

Hermione stepped closer. She watched as Steve's eyes rolled at his slow steps forwards, but then finding equilibrium in the next moment. He held on to the men at his sides with obvious strength and fully operational gross motor functions. "We did it," she whispered. Her mind felt high above the clouds. Wonder, awe, pride, and an overwhelming flush of relief washed over her. 

"You actually did it," Howard echoed with wide eyes and a loose jaw, jumping between the two. 

Steve steadied himself on both feet, and the scientists at his sides released him with cautious, hovering hands. He rolled his shoulders back and stretched up to his impressively full height, taking a deep breath in. On the release out, his eyes opened and they swept the room. It was penetrating and searching. 

Hermione mentally cataloged his reactions. _Heightened cellular regeneration_, she reminded herself. In all areas, including his eyes. _Strengthened eyesight_, that was clearly affirmative as she watched him study the machinery around the room that would have originally been too far away for him to focus on. _And i__f the cone sensitivity in his eyes have been strengthened as well, perhaps a cure for color blindness? _She'd have to ask.

Hermione let him take in his surroundings a moment longer. "How are you feeling?" she asked. 

Steve turned his gaze down to her, as she was now nearly a foot shorter than he. He searched her eyes, the planes of her face, and around the curves of her jaw, taking her all in. The intensity was jarring. "Taller," he answered completely serious. 

A corner of her mouth lifted. The physical body of who she familiarized with Steve might be gone, but mentally- "Well, you look taller."

Peggy came to her side and offered Steve a white t-shirt. "Put this on, before you take someone's eye out," she said, clearly eyeing the mass of muscle he now was made up of. 

Steve smiled back shyly and scratched the back of his head. It gave everyone an eyeful of his abs, all the muscles leading down, and the swell of his bicep. Hermione was sure she heard the other nurse from earlier squeak. Steve immediately lowered his arm and accepted the shirt from Peggy. Without meeting Hermione or Peggy's eyes, he turned around to slip on the white cotton. 

Unfortunately, that also meant that it gave an ample opportunity to stare of the planes of his back. Peggy's eyes look in the view and then traveled farther down. Her eyebrows raised. "Well," she said. 

Hermione immediately twisted around. She could feel the heat of her own attraction rising from some neanderthal section of her ovaries and she hurriedly stamped it down. _Not even two minutes out of his procedure Granger,_ she berated herself. _You are absolutely not here to ogle! Merlin, and you call yourself an adult._

Fortunately, because Hermione had turned around, she watched as Abraham finished shaking the hand of a member from Senator Brandt's party and he met her eyes. He motioned her forwards. She came to his side just as Senator Brant himself and Colonel Phillips came to speak. "Congratulations Doctor!" Senator Brandt said with a confident, curling smile that won polls and votes. His eyes stopped on her. "And you are Miss-?"

"Granger. Hermione Granger," she answered, shaking his hand after Abraham. 

"My Head of Assistants," Abraham introduced with a smile. "Without who, none of any of zhis-" he motioned to the room at large, "-would have been possible." 

Senator Brandt looked mildly amused. "Well then, a hearty congratulations to the both of you. Your work here-"

For some reason, Hermione thought she heard the sound of a small metallic _'clink'_. It echoed in her ears for an impossibly long moment, and she felt her eyes sweep over to a gangly suited man an arms length away, holding of all things, a silver lighter. There was no panic, only bewilderment. Of all the things? There wasn't time to wonder why the stranger was holding a fire hazard in the middle of a laboratory, as with Hermione's next blink, there was a tremendous _CRASH_ above her head. Then a blast of dragon fired heat swept over her body from crown to toes. A unbending force like a giant's swatting hand drove her to her knees, and her legs slid from under her. Her head slammed against the linoleum floor. Then, dazed, she felt glass shards raining down from above. 

The explosion echoed in her ears. Someone screamed. The panic lasted only a moment before a solitary white lab coat rose from his kneeled position beside her. "Someone stop him!" he yelled, pointing forwards. Hermione looked up at the figure blankly, her sight spotting at the edges. Abraham? 

She blinked several times, and focused her eyes to the present, demanding concentration. Abraham took a step forwards. A shot rang out. She watched Abraham jerk, and his foot came back down. Another shot. 

Somebody screamed. 

Abraham's knees buckled, and he fell to the floor like a limp rag doll.

Clarity swept through her mind. Her eyes widened. Hermione echoed the terrible scream. "NO!"

Another shot above her head echoed in the metal chamber. 

She didn't keep track of the stranger or the noise. She grabbed the body of her chosen father at the side of his lab jacket and pulled with all of her strength. His hand flopped uselessly onto the top of her arm. She drove her momentum back and pulled him onto his back. 

"Abraham!" Her eyes flicked down over his body, and she stopped at the two soaking blood marks spreading from over his heart. 

_Death_, a part of her ever moving mind supplied, diagnosing the outcome. 

She climbed closer to Abraham and held his face in her hands. His eyes settled on her, remarkably lucid, and he breathed out shallowly. "Hermione._ Schatz._" 

"I'm going to fix this, it's going to be okay," Hermione whispered, reaching into her lab coat for her wand. An _Episki_ and a _Vulnera Sanentur_ would stable him. _Or prolong an already painful death,_ her same inner voice said flatly. _The hearts muscle and tissue will not be so easily fixed. They haven't the equipment for open heart surgery. Use your mind. You know this. _

Her breath quickened as she came to the outside of her lab jacket.

Abraham's eyes followed her movement and he lifted a slow, trembling hand. He settled it onto the top of her arm, freezing her action. He reached up to the top of her wrist. His fingers curled like he'd hold her limb there against him. 

She saw the determination in his face, and Hermione blinked away rising tears. "_Abraham_. Let me fix this."

His eyes crinkled at the edges, and the gold of his wired glasses gleamed. His fingers tightened around her hand, and he shook his head minutely. 

Shots rang out again from down the outside hall, but all Hermione could hear was Abraham's shallow, slowing, breathing.

Steve came to a crouch beside Hermione, and Abraham's eyes turned to the new face. He lifted the hand that wasn't holding Hermione's down, and pointed a shaking finger to Steve's chest. Right over his heart. 

She didn't know what it meant, but Steve looked at the poking finger on his chest and then back at Abraham with wide eyes. 

Abraham gave him the smallest of nods, as if he still had the energy to speak. His eyes lowered and his head tilted, the remaining moments of his strength leaving him. He smiled one, lopsided grin once more to Hermione in his last moment, and then he died. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> German Translation:  
Schatz- Treasure (A common German endearment for those of familial bonds)
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Dani and Lizzy - Dancing In the Sky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZrtSDmQOro)


	9. Negotiating the Terms of a Symbol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to post a new chapter every other week (or sooner) as my big girl job is considered essential, and they've got us pulling six days right now. Also, this is going to be the beginning of the deviation between some of the cannon in the movies as Hermione becomes more involved. 
> 
> In this chapter I just want to explain that I never completely understood why everyone thought Steve could just jump into taking down Hydra bases after being on tour with the USO. Because training is a thing, even for super soldiers. Small stuff like call signs, land navigation, securing and holding a position, fire-team formations, and riding a MOTORCYCLE (because we all know broke Steve and Bucky didn't have the funds to get a drivers license in Brooklyn) without proper training. So.

* * *

"In case you don't live forever, let me tell you the truth  
I'm everything that I am because of you"

\- Ben Platt, "In Case You Don't Live Forever"

* * *

* * *

June 22nd 1943

Hermione watched as a white cotton sheet was pulled over Abraham’s unmoving, pale face on the gurney, and then whisked away into the depths of the laboratory. She could feel the dried flakes of his blood between the creases of her fingers and the stiffness of her nurse's skirt from further contact. 

She swallowed down the urge to vomit or scream. 

Steve returned from his heroic chase after the Nazi spy about an hour after he’d ran off. He's been barefoot and sweating, reporting back that the spy had killed himself with a cyanide pill, the last serum container had been destroyed in the fight on accident, and that a sunken submarine was waiting for transport back to base at Brooklyn Yard. 

Hermione couldn’t feel her fingers, let alone manage the strength to fight the storm of people that surged towards Steve at his entrance. She watched from the corner of her eye as Peggy led him firmly away by the arm to a physical examination office somewhere deep in the halls. Hermione caught the sight of Abraham’s blood on her clothes again, and disappeared from the lab to her sanctioned room. 

She took the hottest shower she could handle. She scrubbed her skin red and raw while curled under the heavy stream, and cried until her lungs felt as if they’d deflate in her chest and her heart would stop from the throbbing pain. 

_ He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s gone, he’s dead_, was a steady mantra through her head between her sobs. 

When she felt the hard porcelain floor of the tub carve into the flat of her backside after her sobs had run dry, Hermione turned off the water and pulled herself out of the safety of the tub. She mechanically dried her body and slipped into a sturdy nightgown for bed. 

Despite everything, Hermione knew the SSR’s procedure in a situation like this. Report, recover, restart in the morning. As Steve had already made it back to base, reported in, and the blood was most likely being removed from the laboratory floor at this very moment, tomorrow was when the rest of the world would have to fall into place. 

Herself included, which meant she could grieve for the rest of tonight in peace. 

Hours later, soft knocks echoed off her bedroom door. Half of Hermione wanted to open the door as she knew it would be Peggy or maybe even Steve to comfort her, but the majority of her heavy heart and eyes won out, and she remained under the covers, crying softly into the night.

* * *

June 23,1943 

Her alarm woke her at 8:00 o’clock in the morning, two hours past her usual schedule. She rubbed away the crust in her eyes, swallowed the dryness in her throat. Hermione slipped out of bed and put on her underthings, her nylons, and then her SSR uniform. 

Her tears had stopped, she felt as if she would never be able to cry again from last night’s heavy sobs, but the ring of red around her eyes were clearly visible in the bathroom mirror and the fizz of her hair had dried into something unmanageable again. She used her wand to charm her hair into soft ringlets, applied makeup to the redness and puffiness of her face, and stepped back to carefully study her reflection. 

_ Hard_, was the first word that came to mind. Her eyes were glassy, but focused, her makeup covered her blotchy skin, her uniform was pressed and neat, and her hair was styled to the perfection befitting a working woman. She looked calm, complete, and direct. An Agent. 

_ He’d have been proud_, a part of her thought.

_ He should be alive_, the other thought viciously. Shame filled her, and she could remember the look in Abraham’s eyes when he’d stopped her from pulling out her wand. He didn’t want her to save him, like he _ wanted _ to die. 

Hermione abruptly turned from her mirror and slipped on her shoes. She took a deep breath at the front of her door. Swallowing, she left her room with her head held high. 

She avoided the Mess Hall, but grabbed a spare slice of toast from the kitchens. She nibbled on the edges of the bread as she entered the physical examination hallway, and found the blonde likeness of Steve’s top half in one of the passing rooms. She swallowed the rest of her meal and came to stand next to Peggy. 

Steve watched her enter the room, but Hermione carefully avoided the intensity of his eyes. The nurse at his side pulled out a needle from his arm, and carefully wheeled the multiple filled vials of his blood to the other side of the room.

“Any hope of reproducing the program is locked in your genetic code. But without Dr. Erskine, it could take years,” Peggy said, continuing on whatever conversation Hermione had walked into. “Even with Hermione’s assistance, he never gave anyone the full equations, so we’ll be starting from nearly scratch.” 

Steve stood from the bed and rolled down his tan button up sleeve. He stopped before Hermione and Peggy and frowned at the wall between them. “He deserved more than this.”

Hermione clenched her jaw, because _ yes he bloody well did_, but she could see the hurt, confusion, and regret in his eyes that Hermione could trace in her own from this morning’s reflection. He was probably feeling very similarly as she was, Peggy too, as Abraham hadn’t only touched just _ her _ life. 

Hermione focused up on his face. “If the procedure could only work once, he’d be proud it was you,” she spoke up. Steve dropped his eyes from the wall to her, and Hermione gave him the smallest of smiles. She looked to Peggy as well. “He was proud of all of us, don’t forget.”

Peggy’s makeup was as perfectly preserved as Hermione’s own, but her nod back was shallow and small. Hermione watched her release a heavy breath, blink several times, and stand away from the side of the desk she’d been leaning against. “Colonel Phillips has a meeting this morning with Senator Brandt and about yesterday’s- complications,” Peggy said, tucking a file filled with papers against her chest. “We’re expected sooner rather than later.”

Hermione took that as the que it was, and led the three of them down the halls to Colonel Phillip’s office. They rounded a corner just as Hermione heard Howard say, “-I’m the best mechanical engineer in the US of A. But I don’t know what’s inside this thing or how it works. We’re not even _ close _ to this kind of technology.”

Hermione was in the middle of the trio walking forwards, and she could see Howard arm’s deep in the mechanical belly of a submarine while Colonel Phillips and Senator Brandt stood to the side, watching his autopsy. The Senator’s face crinkled in confusion. “Then who is?”

“Hydra,” Colonel Phillips said flatly. He met the Senator’s confused expression with a bland look. “I’m sure you’ve been reading our briefings.”

The senator looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. “I’m on a number of committees, Colonel.” 

“Hydra is a Nazi deep-science division,” Peggy announced at Hermione’s side, and both men turned at her voice. Senator Brandt took off his hat at their approach. “It’s led by Johann Schmidt of Hitler’s inner circle, but he has much bigger personal ambitions.”

Colonel Phillips nodded with a curl of his lip. “Hydra’s practically a cult. They all worship Schmidt. Think he’s invincible.”

Senator Brandt motioned to the submarine and raised an eyebrow. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

The Colonel grinned, “Spoke to the President this morning. As of today the SSR is being retasked.”

Well that was news to Hermione. Now that Abraham wasn’t able to replicate the serum to create the super-army, what were they going to do? What was _ she _ going to do? She didn’t let her confusion cross her face. “Colonel?”

He met Hermione's gaze evenly, and Hermione had the strongest feeling he was reading her mind. “We’re gonna be taking the fight _ to _ Hydra.” He moved his gaze to Peggy as well. “Pack your bags, Agents,” he said. “You too, Stark. We’re flying to London tonight.” Colonel Phillips gave Peggy and herself a final nod and turned to walk away. 

Steve stepped forwards. He has his hands respectfully behind his back, and his shoulders drawn up to their full height. “Sir, if you’re going after Schmidt, I want in.”

The Colonel barely stopped in his tracks. “You’re an experiment. You’re going to Alamogordo.”

_ A military laboratory in New Mexico_, her mind supplied the location. _ To use him like a lab rat while they try to reproduce the serum. _Everyone here knew that it would probably take _ years _ to accomplish. He’d most likely still be there after the War was finished, and for Steve, Hermione knew that that would be like a death sentence. Especially after yesterday.

Steve swallowed and looked back at Hermione for a split second, his eyes charged with worry and a brazen panic. “Sir, the serum worked.”

The Colonel rotated his jaw. “I asked for an army and all I got was you. _ You _ are not enough.” he turned to walk again.

Hermione followed Steve’s actions from earlier and stepped forwards. “Colonel Phillips-”

“With all due respect to the Colonel,” Senator Brandt interrupted and Colonel Phillips turned back around with raised eyebrows. “I think we may be missing the point. I’ve seen you in action, Steve. More importantly, the country’s now seen it too.” 

He held out this morning’s copy of The New York Examiner, and across the top in big bold letters was, ‘_NAZIS IN NEW YORK - MYSTERY MAN SAVES CHILD_’ with a black and white picture of Steve holding up a removed taxi car door in front of himself like a shield.

Senator Brandt pulled back the paper. “The enlistment lines have been around the block since your picture hit the newsstands. You don’t take a soldier, a _ symbol _ like that, and hide him in some lab.” He looked Steve over and stood up straight. “Son, do you want to serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?”

Hermione stepped forwards before Steve could utter a word. She hadn’t dealt with many politicians other than Kinsley as an Unspeakable, but she knew that glint of manipulation in a person’s eyes when she saw it. She took the newspaper straight out of Senator Brandt’s hand and rolled it up like a thick stick. 

The senator blinked wide eyes and his lips parted in shock. 

Hermione firmly put herself in front of Steve before the Senator. “Now, before anyone makes any big decisions regarding the future of the United State’s first Super Soldier, I feel that Senator Brandt, Colonel Phillips, and myself should have a discussion,” she skimmed the room and came to the Colonel, “_away _ from prying eyes and listening ears.”

The Senator’s face tinged with red and his eyebrows came down in a ‘V’ on his forehead. “Miss - Granger was it? Why don’t you let the Colonel and myself decide who’s trustworthy or not in these situations.” His glare directed down at her was clear with the threat intended. “I’m sure a woman in your position would have better things to fret about.”

Gryffindor alumni or not, Hermione _ hated _ powerful men who thought they could push her around. Draco Malfoy and his followers had done it to her all of her Hogwarts years with their blind hatred for what she was, school peers had done it to her at Uni because of her sharp mind and unanswered questions, and her coworkers had tried it when she became the youngest Senior Adviser in the Cooperation of European and Asian Unspeakables in recorded history. As she’d gotten older however, her tolerance for it had gotten thinner. 

“You’ll have to excuse my skepticism, Senator, as it was one of _ your _ committee members that was invited by _ your _council, who killed the only scientist in the world that had been able to create more Super Soldiers for America and her Allies.”

Silence rang across the laboratory, heavy, thick, and dangerous. 

Then Howard snorted. 

Senator Brandt’s red tinged face fell quickly to a pulsating purple hue. His clenched jaw opened. Before Hermione could hear the poison she was sure he was going to spit, Colonel Phillips clapped his hands once together. 

“That is an excellent idea, Agent Granger. Senator why don’t we all head to my office and get a drink? I've got a good bottle of scotch to celebrate with.”

Hermione could see the rage hovering just under his skin. His tongue skimmed the underside of front teeth like it was physically holding back his words, and Hermione watched as he made himself swallow and turn to Colonel Phillips with a good-natured smile. 

“Course Colonel. A bottle of scotch sounds just great right now.”

“Right this way Senator,” he motioned with an arm. He fixed Hermione with an _ your-a-dead-agent _kind of glare. “Agent Granger, I’ll meet you there.” He followed after the other man. 

Hermione swallowed. She turned around to Steve and Peggy at her back. Steve had wide eyes. Peggy looked torn between impressed and disappointed. “I know,” Hermione told Peggy. “I know- I’ll fix it.” She looked up at Steve. “But pack your bags too. I’ll not leave you to become some sort of puppet for Congress.”

Then she turned on her heel, and walked towards an incoming shouting match. 

“What’d she mean-”

“Come on soldier, let’s talk about ‘_the most important battlefield of the war_’.”

By the time she had closed Colonel Phillip’s door behind her, both men had poured themselves a glass of the Colonel’s alcohol. Colonel Phillips caught her eyes and held up an empty glass. “Would you care for one as well Agent?”

“No thank you, Sir,” she answered and put her hands to her sides.

Senator Brandt took a seat before the Colonel’s desk. He took a sip of his drink and looked over at her above the lip of his cup. “So,” he said, breathing out long and slow. “What’ve ya got?”

Hermione’s hurriedly prepared speech down the hallway fell apart at his words. She thought she’d have to fight for an entrance to say her peace. She licked her lips. “I feel that it would be wasteful to put Rogers in a lab after more than three years of experimental work, only for it to be executed perfectly. We all saw what the serum did to him and how he responded to yesterday’s attack,” she said. “Putting that much potential behind glass and hoping for someone to pick up Dr. Erskine’s pieces when we’ve already got the perfect subject is-” Hermione cut herself off, “-problematic.”

The senator snorted and took another sip. “Did you hear that Chester? Problematic. I think she just called you stupid.”

Colonel Phillips took a drink from his own glass. “Shut it Michael. Agent Granger, what would you propose we do with him?” he said. “He’s untrained.”

“That can be fixed.”

“He doesn’t have a specialization.”

“That can be trained.”

“We_ do _ still need to figure out a way to reverse engineer the serum from Rodgers.”

“And you have more than enough of his blood to do that, I saw it. If your scientists need further samples or information they can request it. The post works.”

The Colonel grimaced. “He’s _ untested_.”

“What would you call yesterday then?” Hermione asked loudly, crossing her hands over her chest. “He isn’t that skinny man you saw from before the procedure anymore Colonel! You saw the photographs, heard the interviews, studied the submarine glass that _ he punched through_. And yes, he may be green, and new to the procedures of the military, but we all know how much he wants to learn. He _ wants _ to fight, and we built him a body to do just that!”

Colonel Phillips put his half empty drink down onto the wood of his desk. Hermione could feel her words sinking in, her _ logic._

“He’s just one man.”

“Hitler is just one man,” Hermione immediately argued, “and look what he did. Now think of what Rogers could do if he had the support of the SSR and its Allied interests.”

Silence.

“She makes a damn good point Chester. Congress would think so too,” Senator Brandt said, tipping the rest of his glass down. 

Colonel Phillips sighed heavily, picked his drink back up, and finished the rest of his glass in one long pour. He smacked his lips when he put the glass down. “Fine. _ Fine _ Agent Granger, but I want his clearance through Basic Combat Training, Personal Specialized Training, and updates on the serum’s conditioning on him.”

Hermione fought the urge to smile. “Yes Sir.”

"You will handle his training."

Hermione almost immediately agreed, but then a thought came to her. "From London?"

"You'll be needed more there. Rogers will accompany."

Senator Brandt stood up. "Now hold on a minute," he said, looking between Hermione and the Colonel. "We haven't discussed _my_ plans."

"You plans are arguably the worst Senator," the Colonel said.

"Shut it Chester," Senator Brandt snapped back, and Hermione had the sense that they had known each other for a very long time. "The outcome is still wrapped around the recruiting stations in Brooklyn. The man could be an inspiration. A symbol for this great country."

"We didn't spend millions of dollars on this project for you to turn him into a _chorus girl _in one of your shows."

"I'm not saying he has to sing and dance. But we'd be a bunch of fools if we didn't take while the gettin is good," the Senator said. "He's an _American_ _Super Soldier_ and War is expensive."

Hermione could tell where this was going. "What would you want for him to do?" 

He got up and poured himself another drink, topping off the Colonel as well. "I want him to- boost morale. Become a face that no one will forget. Sell a couple of bonds, run a couple of clips for the cinema, let everyone see how truth, justice, and the American way can change the tide of the War." 

Sounded an awful lot like a political puppet, and Hermione told him so. 

The Senator laughed. "It's called the chain of command sweetheart. One man does what he needs for the betterment of his country."

Hermione liked the Senator even less. 

The colonel put his glass of scotch back down. "Well how about a little bit of a compromise then?" he said. He at at the corner of his desk. "We train him, take him overseas, you take your media hype and follow him too."

Hermione frowned. "You want to -film him training?"

The senator snapped his fingers and grinned like he'd came to an epiphany. "In live combat zones. Let the world see what the Nazis are capable of. Why buying a bond is _the right thing to do_." He nodded to himself. "_Buy a bond, save a life_," he said like was already writing scripts. "I like it. We'll probably have to do a publicity tour around Europe to create public interest. Sell some merchandise. Comic books, or trading cards. Lunch boxes." He nodded again and fingered the rim of his glass. "Maybe even a movie." He stood up and chugged the rest of his glass. "You're right Colonel, a compromise sounds best. I'll get my team together before you ship off tonight." He crossed the room to Hermione and firmly shook her hand. "You're absolutely brilliant you know that? Just great, thank you."

Hermione was perplexed at his sudden motivation and she could only nod her head back to him. 

He released her hand and put back on his hat. "I'll be in touch Colonel," he said, before sweeping out of the office. 

Colonel Phillips drained the rest of his glass. "Now you've done it," he said, putting his bottle of alcohol away in his desk. 

Hermione shifted uncomfortably on her feet, completely aware of just how far she had thrown herself out of her comfort zone, and into the unforgiving eyes of history. "Well it was that or let him get his claws on Erskine's work." 

The Colonel took off his service hat. "The Doctor, yes." He rubbed a hand over his balding head and pierced her with an examining eye. "I needed to talk to you about that." he motioned at the chairs in front of his desk, and Hermione obeyed, taking a seat. He fixed both eyes intensely over her. "What almost happened in the lab last night needs to never happen again, do you understand?" 

Hermione was baffled. Her eyebrows drew together as she thought over Abraham's murder and came up empty. "Sir?" she asked. 

"You pulling out your stick of magic Agent Granger," Colonel Phillip's said and Hermione felt her the blood leave her face. 

"Sir-"

"You were in a room full of people, one was a Nazi spy, and if you had done what the good doctor had stopped you from doing- you'd be sitting in Alamogordo right now, stuck in a lab besides Rogers and Dr. Erskine knew it too," he said, his words flooring Hermione and causing her to lean back in her seat. 

Because of course, he was _right_. There was a reason that the Statue of Secrecy was established in her world, and even if it didn't legally bind her here, it had been upheld for the same foundations. If people, goodness the _entirety_ of the lab and the Senator, had seen what she'd been trying to do, there was no telling what would have happened next. 

The implications of her almost-actions ran through her mind and she swallowed heavily. "Yes Sir. Sorry- Sir." She met his eyes. 

He took a seat behind his desk. "I'm not saying that I don't understand the temptation of making a change in history," he said, "because I do now, but you have to remember why you're here. To save millions of lives in this War. You can't do that locked away in a lab in the middle of a desert."

"Yes Sir."

"Good. Go get Rogers and Agent Carter. We leave at 22:00."

* * *

July 23rd 1943

The days began to blend together. 

Hermione wasn't able to stay for the burial of Abraham, or the disbursement of his personal belongings, but Howard assured her a month after his passing that she'd be able to go back after the war was over and do him right. 

She helped Howard in the SSR lab in England now deconstructing and researching Hydra weapons and intelligence. It seemed that Hydra was very interested in the Norse Gods and myths, as most of their decrypted communication used old stories or characters from Norse mythology in their work. Working through their reports and plans also brought about her old fascination with ancient runes. 

Her first Mastery in Origination of Foreign Magic and then Mastery in Arithmancy had taken up too much of her time for her to focus on Ancient Runes after Hogwarts. She had always found the subject interesting in her school years and it had been a plan for hers to continue additional studies on the subject after her six year term as Senior Advisor in the Cooperation of European and Asian Unspeakables was over. Obviously, that had never come to fruition, and probably never would, however, her old lessons and subsequent learning in her time as an Unspeakable could tell that Hydra was just as interested in Norse ancient runes as she was.

It was also distressing. 

She had no idea how Magic worked in this world. She didn't know if Hydra had the means to combine some sort of science they already had with the runes they were researching and discovering and then create some sort of weapon. Before her arrival to this world she would have considered that idea to be impossible, but she knew now how big the differences were between her muggle world and this one, and how far technology had already been pushed. Bottom line, Ancient Runes was a constant thought in her daily activities, and she began to go over her old lessons in her mind. 

Another part of her life was focused completely on Steve. 

As soon as Hermione and the SSR had dropped into England, Hermione began organizing his stay at a Military base with Sergeant Duffy so that he would accomplish basic training, and test the limitations of his new body. They had shared a hurried goodbye before his departure, but Hermione could still feel the intensity of his gaze over her eyes, and the soft brush of his hand against her face even a month later. She'd be lying if she didn't say that she was counting down the days until Steve would be back from BCT (basic combat training) and Senator Brandt's scheduled European tour in early August. 

Hermione drew a _Mannaz_ rune, literally meaning 'mankind' and representing it's awareness in divinity, when Howard and Peggy walked into her office together. Hermione released the charcoal pencil she'd been using at the looks on their faces. "What?" Hermione asked as they closed her office door behind them and came closer to her desk. "What happened?"

"We've only just figured out the decryption," Peggy said, her eyes narrowing on Hermione's drawing for a moment. "Johann's finally made a move and separated himself from the Nazi Party."

"_What?_" Hermione asked, eyes widening. 

"From what we've heard he killed Major General Schneider, Colonel General Roeder, and Major Hutter, all high ranking officers of the Nazi Schutzstaffel when they made a stop at his base last week." Peggy explained. 

"Why would he-"

"Hydra has become fully financially independent from the Nazi Party with whatever weapons they've been makin in their new factories. Hitler hasn't ordered anything, but it's only a matter of time before Hydra and them go at each other." Howard said, making no pretense to how hard he was studying Hermione's many rune sketches littered across her desk. 

"Is that a good thing then?" Hermione asked, looking between the two. 

Peggy shook her head. "No, not yet, as the enemy of my enemy is my friend, and the enemy remains the Allies to them both."

Hermione thought over that. "Does that change our goal?"

Peggy shook her head again. "No, but it does narrow it. We are tasked now to solely focus on Hydra so they don't splinter off and fill a vacuum of power when the dust settles after Hitler."

Hermione grimaced, _yes they wouldn't want to engage in World War III so soon after this_. "So now what? Any news from the Colonel?" 

Howard sat heavily in a chair across from her desk. "Apparently, Peggy and I were to consult _you_ on what might be next."

Hermione froze. She was very aware of the fact that Howard only knew her as '_another wizard from Oz_' as he put it, and not a time-traveling dimension-crossing commuter. "Did he?" she asked carefully. Trying to not give anything away, she stamped down on the urge to look to Peggy for panicked help. 

Howard studied her. "Yes. Something about 'consulting a living history book' were his exact words."

Well if that wasn't blatant permission, Hermione still looked to Peggy for confirmation. 

The other woman nodded. "The Colonel thinks that Stark should be included for future maneuvers."

A weight fell from her shoulders. Her lab partner and close friend would be allowed to know. "Oh," she said and leaned back into chair. "Well before we start, does anyone want a drink? I have what's left of Abraham's bottle of vodka." She stood up, to get herself and Peggy a small glass as she knew her friend would usually want. 

"Hell if it's that bad, I'll take one too," Howard said from behind her. 

She poured the glasses and returned to her desk, taking the bottle with her. She seperated the drink out, and leaned back against her chair again.

Howard accepted his glass and looked at her expectantly. "What? You gonna tell me the Colonel is your uncle or somethin?"

Hermione laughed. "No, goodness no," she smiled and took a sip from her glass, feeling the familiar burn down her throat. "But do you remember the day we wet? The day I'd been shot in the Alps?" 

Howard nodded and settled himself in his chair. "Hard to forget doll, I thought you were gonna die in my arms that night." 

"Well the truth is, I'd arrived there three days prior. And in blaze of blue light."

* * *

Later That Night

Howard put the side of the glass cup to his forehead and closed his eyes, slumped against Hermione's guest chair, clearly tipping towards insobriety. "Everything's insane."

Peggy smiled. She had glassy eyes and was leaning against the chair besides him without her normal grace. "Welcome to the SSR." 

"Ugh," Howard said and looked to the ceiling. His eyebrows came down and Hermione could practically feel the thoughts rolling around his head. "And you've just been here this whole, doing what? Trying to save the world?" he asked, dropping the glass to his lap and sitting forwards at Hermione. 

"I didn't have a home to go back to, any research to go over, or magical texts to consult. The technology in this time isn't near close enough to be able to help me. So, the SSR gave me another choice and I stayed."

"Yeah by trying to _save the world_. Didn't just want to invent something that had been done in your time and make millions?" 

Hermione frowned at the slight slur in his words. "No, it never crossed my mind to be honest," she shrugged. "And my old world didn't have some of the things that this one does, so I wasn't sure what would cause ripples in the timeline or not. For example, my world didn't have you or Stark Industries."

He huffed. "Now that's a cryin shame. Think of all the unloved dames."

Hermione laughed. "So I just did what I've always done best at, and worked in research and development."

Howard nodded and poured himself another glass of the undiluted vodka. "And now that we're here, three years later, any of our new research have to do with these?" he motioned to her sketches. 

"No, this is a personal project of mine."

"For getting back to your world?" He blinked and shook his head. "I can't believe that just came out of my mouth mostly sober."

Hermione huffed a small laugh. "No. It's about Hydra," she said honestly. "-and preparing for the worst."

He blinked at her sketches and pulled some of her documents closer. "What's squiggles got to do with Hydra?" 

Peggy leaned forwards at the sketches as well, glassy eyes memorizing everything available. "In my word, they're considered symbols of unsolved power. 'Ancient Runes'. Each one means a different thing, and if your string them together the right way and in the right pattern, you can make a lot of magic."

Peggy traced a finger over the _Mannaz_ from earlier. "Would they work in this world?"

Hermione shrugged. "I haven't tested them yet, but I don't see why they wouldn't. My magic works here, and if Hydra finds a way to combine whatever they have with these runes-"

"They might be able to make them work to," Howard nodded along with her thought process. "And they sure do seem to have a fixation on Norse mythology."

"Exactly."

"Do you think you would be able to create something against Hydra if that became true?" Peggy asked. She put down the documents Hermione had been scribbling on and gave her a clear eyed consideration. 

Hermione rolled the idea around in her head. "Possibly. Maybe some sort of protection as well. Runes can be tricky."

The other Agent nodded and stood up from her chair. "I'm going to report to the Colonel on this. You might be retasked to focus on this instead."

Hermione nodded and gathered her cup as Peggy left her office. 

Howard finished the rest of his glass. "I feel like I already know the ending on this one, but does Steve know? You know, about everything?"

Hermione's silence as she put away the bottle of alcohol was all the answer Howard needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up: I've taken 'Ancient Runes' studies from a little bit of everywhere and mashed it together for my own making in this story. If you are familiar with the origination of ancient runic symbols or hieroglyphs (whether that be Norse, Egyptian, Thai, Icelandic ect..) I am well aware of my bastardization moving forwards and I do apologize!
> 
> I have also finished the timeline for the first part of this story. This means I've got a general idea of what I want to happen and how it's going to go down, and all I can really report is: buckle up.
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Ben Platt - In Case You Don't Live Forever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DlkA0mOzzO4)


	10. Hydra's Secret Weapon(s)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RUNE LORE!  
In cannon, Runes were described almost like a foreign language course, but I found that idea rathering boring. So, in this timeline of Hermione, Runes was more of a history class, where Runes had meanings, intentions, and power. Taking this class taught you how to basically use ancient forms of magic.  
Also we dive a little deeper into the plot, and finally FINALLY this relationship tag comes to some fruition.

* * *

"And when the music stops playing  
And the stars stop shining  
Won't you take my hand and come with me?"

\- Nick Lachey, "Someone to Dance With"

* * *

* * *

August 8th 1943 

Hermione layered the last line of a common _ house-mark_ with a shaved pencil, and released the steady flow of magic she'd been feeding into the protection sigil as she drew. The relief was instantaneous. Her magic pooled back into her own body, her shoulders dropped, her ears rang, and she had a sudden need for a tall glass of water. 

Peggy peered over the folder of reports and recent intelligence that had been occupying her attention for the past few hours. Her eyes cast down at the simple marking on the page. She raised an eyebrow and leaned forwards, an interested light behind her usually guarded eyes. “What’s this?”

Hermione rubbed the graphite from her fingers and looked down at her work. It was larger than usually allowed at school, in total the sigil could have covered the entirety of her palm instead of the neat thumb sized markings of her past, but she had wanted to get the strokes, the direction, _ the feeling _ right as she relearned her old lessons. “It’s a _ house-mark_,” Hermione answered. “A very basic protection, usually placed inside a new home for prosperity, good health and favor.”

“Favor from what?”

Hermione shrugged. “Anyone they believed in I suppose. For most, it was the old Gods. Odin, Thor,” she said, “and any others that one found true divine inspiration in.” 

Peggy nodded along and gazed over the very simple sigil. “And what does it mean?”

Hermione pointed to the ‘X’ mark that had two little triangles pointed away from the top of the two lines. "If you were to break this 'X' apart like a left flag pole and a right, you would have the the two Horns of both Life," she pointed to the right triangle, "and then Death," she pointed to the left. "They are the inverted representation of the other, crossing over to meaning the fullness of life, or a life span. They both stand above Thor's hammer here at the bottom, which can mean any number of things literally, but the _feeling _ and _intention_ given when casting may give it a different outcome. For me just now, Thor's hammer could represent home or fortress of hearth, and its' meaning would be, "_Between Life and Death may my estate increase and prosper_," Hermione explained. "This is a general marking, and had popularity in the Middle Ages. Very simple. It's when you start specifying specific outcomes with intentions does rune-work become problematic." She pushed her paper over to Peggy with a smile.

The other woman accepted the document and studied the runes with an appreciative eye. "Sounds tricky," she said. "That there could be any number of meanings for this marking with _intention_?" 

Hermione nodded. "Focused thought and feeling. A Want." She pointed to the Horn of Death. "However, no matter how powerful the intention may be, runes can not be transformed entirely into something else. It can't be _wanted_ into another idea that directly opposes it's form or symbol, as it already_ is_ something," Hermione frowned, "If that makes any sense. That's why a symbol for the truly opposite can be translated as the inverted rune of the first." She nodded to the _house-mark_. "Life and Death each its' own form."

"Makes sense," Peggy traced a finger over the mark. 

Hermione smiled. "We'll be Rune Masters yet."

Peggy smiled and gave her rune work back. "And could you create this over and over without consequence?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, as I've only a limited amount of magic within myself," she answered. "It takes concentration, intention, and my own magic to operate. I have to _feed_ it with my Want, so it's draining to the castor." She laid the rune down on her desk. "Another reason Rune work can be tricky. If one were to create something with the correct intention but incorrect power, it could kill them. Or take away their magic permanently."

"Hm," Peggy answered, biting the inside of her lip. "And how long does it last usually?"

Hermione frowned. "A rune? It depends. On faith of the castor, the strength of intention, the magic, the medium itself. It could last five minutes or thousands of years, like the Egyptian tombs. From there, you'd probably want a to find yourself a curse-breaker."

"A curse-breaker?"

"Don't laugh." Hermione could see the incredulous look over her friend's face. "It's a very respectable field. A lot of training, very hard to be good at." She thought of Bill from her old home, and nearly smiled at the memory of the oldest Weasley. 

To her credit, Peggy didn't laugh. "And how are you in that? The curse-breaking field."

Hermione frowned again. "Not the best, however I've had my fair share of run-ins from my old work." 

Peggy's gaze settled on her file of documents from earlier. "Do you think you'd be able to use that against Hydra?"

Hermione blinked. "If it was necessary yes," Hermione answered, and Peggy nodded with relief. "But it's very unlikely that I'd have to. Without magic, runes are just highly symbolic markings. Even with an immense amount of _belief _from a muggle, it couldn't power-"

"Intention," Peggy said. "Belief and intention by Hydra's millions might be able to do something," she countered. "And if it's not _belief_ or intention that does the powering, it might be... something else."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Normal electricity wouldn't be able to initiate the power of a rune."

"Not electricity no," Peggy said, dropping Hermione's searching eyes and pulling her packet of documents open. She flipped through a couple of reports before revealing a decrypted telegram. "Obviously, this is Top-Secret," she started.

"Obviously," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow. 

Peggy didn't pay her sass any mind. "We've recently received a report about Hydra's new manufactured weapons."

Peggy passed her a black and white photo of a close-up on a Luger P08 pistol. The standard weapon of Nazi's armed forces, and a piece of machinery Hermione had recently learned how to take apart and reassemble blindfolded now that she worked to deconstruct and learn Hydra's weapons on her daily schedule. However, as she took in the familiar lines of the weapon, her eyebrows drew together. The wooden grip of the gun had been exchanged for a metal one, not all that uncommon, but it had holes on the side of the grip that revealed sections of illumination _inside_ where the magazine usually held the bullets. "Is that-?" Hermione pulled the photograph closer. "I mean it looks like-"

"Light coming out of the magazine?" Peggy asked. "Yes, that's because it is. In reality it's blue in color and as bright as a flame, at least according to our reports."

Hermione's mind was already running through every chemical compound that could feasibly give off that kind of light for an innumerable amount of time, and was also not a safety hazard in a pressurized weapon that wouldn't explode at the trigger pull. Her mind came up with nothing. _Nothing _could do that. It shouldn't be possible. "What is it?" Hermione asked, her mind fumbling for answers.

"We have no idea," Peggy answered. "Some sort of _powered_ bullets?" She pulled several other photos of the same looking gun from her folder and spread them across Hermione's table. "There have been very few found, and not every gun of Hydra's has the blue power- yet. We haven't gotten any to study as Hydra seems to like either stealing evidence back, or making it explode on the way to a research lab. But the reports also suggest that they hold more ammunition than the weapons should be physically capable of, and the bullets shoot out blue in color too."

Hermione had no idea what to do with that information. She needed to find these weapons and _study_ them. "But what could-"

"That's not the worst of it," Peggy said, and Hermione raised her eyebrows higher on her head. "_This_ was also found on the side of every strange new weapon they found." She laid out one last photo to the table and Hermione's breath stopped in her chest. Her hands hovered over the edges of the black and white photograph, unwilling to touch the evidence of what it meant. Etched into the rear sight of the Luger were familiar and terrifying markings. 

An inverted _Thurisaz, _the Horn of Death rune, an inverted _Ehwaz _rune, and a small _Inguz_ rune were visible in the metal. _Death_ and _Disharmony_, Hermione could translate the first two easily. The last rune had many meanings including process, or power of suggestion, but with the inverted addition of the prior runes, Hermione guessed it most likely meant _Production._

_Death, Disharmony, Production._

Hermione sat down hard in her seat, staring at the photograph. She could feel the blood leaving her face. Her hands were shaking, and her breathing was shallow. _Good Merlin. They enchanted a weapon_, her mind screamed at her. _With Runes_. _With RUNES._

Runes that shouldn't have been able to work. Shouldn't have been able to mesh with Muggle technology. Never. There had never _ever _been a living case of a Muggle being able to consciously wield and create a magical item. A runic inscribed item that needed _magic_ to operate. Never Ever. Not _once._

"That's impossible," Hermione heard herself say. 

"You recognise the markings?" Peggy asked neutrally. 

Hermione shakily dropped the photograph into her lap and met her friend's eyes. "You know I do."

Peggy sighed, and despite her own numbness, Hermione could see fear creep into the corners of Peggy's eyes. "I had to be sure," her friend said. "I only had suspicions after I'd seen your work with Howard the last time, but I didn't want it to be true."

Hermione's head was still spinning. "It shouldn't be able to be," she answered. "Nothing should be able to do something like this."

"Well whatever Johann found in Norway, it's helped him to achieve the impossible. I think it's the _runes_ that are stabilizing whatever energy is in those new weapons," Peggy said. 

"We have to destroy them," Hermione whispered. 

Peggy grimaced, but leaned forwards in her chair. "What do they mean?"

"_Death, Disharmony, _and possibly, _Production_," Hermione answered. "Separately, they could be used for good or evil purposes, but somehow, _somehow_ they have it written in the correct formation that allows transference of energy. For magic," Hermione said and Peggy watched silently. "I've never seen this formation on a muggle gun before, but it could mean any number of things."

"Do the meanings of the runes create something more than just easy energy conduction?"

"It- well using runes makes the gun more than _charmed_. The magic's intention will last last longer for one-." She bit the inside of her lip. "They've created a basic magical weapon. Something inanimate imbued with a specific purpose, or goal," Hermione answered. She pointed to the inverted _Thurisaz_ again. "This symbol, _Death_, is obviously it's own intention as etched into the instrument that plays a part." She pointed to the next rune, the inverted _Ehwaz_. "Then _Disharmony_ for- what?" She asked, going over every Runes text she'd ever read furiously in her mind. "The energy in the gun? The bullets? A way of chaotic transformation? Breaking the physical limitations of a magazine, and the structural integrity of an un-magical weapon?" Hermione grimaced. "But that would being chaos. It would destroy the mechanism before it was used, never mind stable."

"The last rune, _Production_," Peggy suggested. 

Hermione thought hard. "It could mean many things by itself. Process. Planning. Power of suggestion," Hermione said, standing up from her chair and walking a path to and from her desk across her small office. "The_ Inguz_ rune could act as a stabilizing medium between the inverted runes. It's known more for planning and process, but with the right intention to complete a suggestion- by completing a magic number of _three_ no less, it could create its' own balanced loop. A _Production_, perhaps to then offer the endless account of bullets in a single gun?" She shook her head. "I haven't a clue. But that could be a theory."

"It makes sense."

"Only because I haven't seen their weapons yet. The energy." Hermione shook her head again and put her hands behind her back. "If the runes work for a muggle weapon, it could do all kinds of things. Never mind it being applied to anything else." Her mind jumped to all the other Nazi weapons she and Howard had been dismantling and studying together. "A grenade. Rocket launchers. Tanks. Field Artillery. Planes." A shiver ran down her back. "The application..." She breathed out with a horrible sigh. "... it would be beyond devastating."

Peggy sighed with her. "So then it's only a matter of time."

Hermione nodded. "However he's doing this, we need to make sure he can't mass produce. We'll have to stop it. Destroy the production."

Peggy nodded along. "Level the manufacturing bases he created."

"Before it's too late, and he-"

There was a sharp, short knock on Hermione's office door, and then someone was stepping into her office without announcement. 

Hermione whirled to the newcomer and Peggy stood up hastily from her seat across Hermione's desk. The entryway was then filled with a pair of tall, broad shoulders attached to an equally muscled man with military cropped blonde hair. Hermione recognized him instantly, and her indignation dispersed away as quickly as it had built. "Steve!" she said.

The soldier in question had a small smile on his face as he entered, but quickly fell away as he located and studied the photographs on display across Hermione's desk. He took in Peggy's stance, the atmosphere in the room, and quietly closed her office door behind him. "I'm sorry for barging in. I didn't realize you were in a meeting Agent Granger."

Peggy raised an eyebrow at Steve's even tone. "Do you always enter an office before waiting for permission Private- or should I say _Captain_ Rogers now?"

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Captain?" she asked. "When did that happen?"

Embarrassment flushed Steve's face. Hermione found it very difficult to not think it adorable.

"Senator Bradt and team made an executive decision while he was on tour last week- shooting a film if I recall correctly," Peggy answered for him.

Hermione's surprise rose further. "You were in a film?"

"Several," Peggy answered again. 

"But-" Hermione felt further confusion rise up. "What about training? I had Sergeant Duffy on a _strict_ guideline."

Peggy cocked her head to the side, amusement faint in her eyes as she let Steve take over. 

He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Well we finished training early."

She studied him skeptically. "Early enough to finish _several_ films?"

"Early enough for Senator Brandt to start his filming and touring before we began Specialty Training. Then I did all of that mostly on camera."

Hermione thought her jaw would drop to the floor. "You- when you hadn't finished-" anger drowned the incredulous reaction bubbling in her chest. "-why the _nerve_ of that man, I swear-"

Peggy hid a small smile behind a cough. "To be fair, Captain Rogers had already exceeded administered training demands, and the Senator did have an agreement to his time."

Hermione withheld the desire to shoot her friend a dirty look. Instead, she breathed deeply and make her way back to her desk. "I want a report of your progress Captain Rogers. Immediately on my desk tomorrow morning. Everything. And a list of every film you've been in as well."

"Perhaps a message to the senator's assistant for further scheduling?" Peggy suggested. 

Hermione bit back her immediate reply and nodded sagely. "An excellent suggest Agent Carter, as always."

Peggy turned around to gather her service hat, but Hermione caught the trembling of her lips as she held back a laugh. When she had righted herself, and placed her hat back on, her amusement was gone. "I'm going to inform the Colonel of our discussion Agent Granger." She nodded to Hermione and then Steve. "I'll leave you to it."

As Peggy began to move, Hermione noticed the folder she'd been reading through all day untouched on her desk. "Would you like me to have your folder on your desk later tonight?" Hermione asked. 

Peggy looked back once at the forgotten document, and then shook her head. "I no longer need them. You hold on to them for me."

Confusion and shock ran through Hermione. To touch secret files, let alone _hold onto_ them was apart of a higher clearance than Hermione currently held. It was against regulation. "But-"

"Congratulations Agent Granger, the Senator and Colonel send their compliments as well."

Hermione blinked several times as her friend walked out of the entryway.

Before she closed the door behind her, Peggy turned back around and said, "Oh, and you've been given permission to relate your origins to the Captain. The Colonel expects a full briefing."

If Hermione thought she was in shock before, it was nowhere close to the tidal wave of rolling surprise that she was now drowning in. "But-"

"Good day Agent Granger," she smiled briefly with a shine in her eye. She nodded to Steve once. "Captain." And then she was gone. 

Only Hermione's self preservation prevented her from collapsing in her chair as her friend left. So many new things to consider in such a small amount of time. 

Steve's eyebrows came together. "Did you just get promoted?"

Hermione let the shock take her to her seat and she sat down heavily. She nodded.

Steve took a seat across from her at the desk and smiled lopsidedly at her, causing Hermione's stomach to flip. He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. "Congratulations Hermione," he said softly. 

She smiled back, hoping it wasn't as shaky as she felt. She glanced to the documents still scattered over her desk. 

Steve followed her eyes and his frown came back at the close-up of the runes etched into the gun. "What is this?"

Hermione wanted to sigh. This was it. She'd have to explain it all to him, every gritty detail, and a stubbornly small part of her wondered if he'd dismiss _whatever_ they had as soon as he understood what she was and where she was from. It left her scared.

She fingered the edges of one of the black and white photos. She swallowed back her fear as best as she could. She was an _Agent_ dam it all. And the first witch of her family. She was the youngest witch in all of Europe, maybe even the America's to have accomplished as much as she had in her own world. She was a time traveler. She had crossed _dimensions_ unharmed and was thriving. She could do this.

"You've been given permission to know the next steps of the SSR," Hermione started, "And what it has to do with me. With my past."

Steve looked up from the photograph. "I thought you said you were from England?" he asked. 

"I am, but it's not that simple," she answered. She pulled out her wand.

Steve tracked her movements and he looked between her and her wand with rising confusion. 

"Don't panic," Hermione said without thought, unwise as it only made Steve's eyebrows raise higher on his forehead. 

Hermione removed her gaze from Steve and focused on one of the photos on the desk. She flicked her wand once, focused her intent, and the photograph turned into an owl. 

Steve stood up from his chair quickly, the metal legs scraping back and falling over at the sudden movement. Steve took a half step back, his arms up at his sides like he expected the animal to attack, and then he froze. He stared.

The owl turned its head to Steve comically slow, as if it was just waking up.

"It won't hurt you," Hermione said softly, and Steve's eyes jumped from the owl, whose eyes blinked widely at him, to Hermione. She raised her hands slowly in surrender, her wand between two fingers. "_I'm_ not going to hurt you," she said even softer. 

Steve blinked at her like her words had thrown cold water over his head, and he stood straight. His shoulders lowered. His eyes became less intense. They were still confused, but less like he was strategizing for an attack. Steve didn't say anything back to her, but returned his attention to the owl, and took a small step forwards. He studied the animal closely, watching as it breathed, blinked, and then stretched it's wings like it was yawning. He swallowed.

Hermione's breath was stuck in her chest. 

"Is that-" he asked, "what you did- magic?" He finally met her eyes, and Hermione couldn't pin point a feeling behind them. 

She nodded. "I've always had it, even as a child," she answered softly. "I learned how to control it as I got older. I'm what you'd call a witch."

His eyebrows rose. "A witch?"

"Cauldrons, flying broomsticks, and all."

He tried to sit down, but remembered his chair had been knocked over, so he righted it and then heavily lowered himself. His uniform rumpled at his bent position. His elbows rested on his knees again, and his attention settled over Hermione completely. 

She could practically see the jumble of thoughts in his head as he studied her. She let him have his silence, she could vaguely remember what it had been like when she'd first found out magic was real as a child, and leaned back into her own chair with fake calmness. 

Steve didn't wait long to break their silence. "What else can you-" Steve started, before trailing off like he wasn't sure he was allowed to ask. 

"Do?" Hermione finished for him. He smiled with a small nod. Hermione's insides lit up at the look on his face. There wasn't anger, or malice, or Merline forbid _disgust_, just honest confusion and some blatant curiosity. "Well I can do alot of things. When I was younger, everything I could do was instinctual, its called accidental magic, but when a witch or wizard turns 11-" And Hermione told him about Hogwarts. She told him about the classes she took, the Middle Ages environment that the Wizarding World seemed to be stuck in, the Ministry, the Magical Animals, the Sports teams, she told him everything she could, without mentioning anything at all about the actual decade she'd grown up in, or about Voldemort and his War. 

Steve, bless his heart, took it all rather well. He asked questions for some of the details in her world like, "Goblins? Actual Goblins are bankers?" or about the specifics of the Ministry departments, but he never once seemed to doubt her word. 

When they'd reached a lull in the conversation, Hermione voiced her observations of him. Steve grinned and leaned back in his chair comfortably, barely glancing over at the perched owl on the desk. "Well, it makes a little bit of sense," Steve admitted. 

Hermione blinked in shock. "What does?"

"You sayin _Merlin_ all the time. 'Course me and Buck just thought it was an English thing or somethin, maybe from your city, but we always thought it was a little strange," he smiled. "Now I know it's about an actual guy." He shook his head. "Crazy."

Hermione sighed. "Yes well-"

"Peggy knows. Colonel Phillips must too." 

Hermione sidetracked from furthering the conversation about her dimension jumping story, and nodded. "They do."

"Does anyone-" He stopped himself with a frown. 

"Howard knows," Hermione said, knowing his thoughts. "Abraham did. But that's it. No one else is allowed, it wouldn't be safe for me if they all knew."

"Alamogordo," Steve said, understanding washing over his face.

She nodded. "I'd be a science experiment." She twisted her wand in her hands. "Well, for being a witch and for other things." 

"What could possibly be _more_ than a witch?" Steve asked with a smile, shaking his head. "I mean that's- Everythin you said, it sounds amazing."

Warmth filled Hermione from the tips of her toes, to the crown of her head. "Magic can be amazing," Hermione agreed. "It can be the most marvelous thing in the world, the best tool, create the most beautiful wonders, but it can also be dark." She looked down at the other photographs over her desk, the twisted Runes that were being held by an organization of a mad man. "It can create pain, and death, and hurt. It can be unpredictable, and do something that can't be ever undone." 

Steve picked up the photo that clearly showed the etched Runes in the Nazi weapon. "Is that what this is about?"

Hermione shook her head. "We'll get to that," she said. "But I have a story to tell you first that's even more crazy than me being a witch."

Steve put the photograph back down. His eyes studied her, and then he frowned at her. "You're scared."

"It's going to be alot to understand."

He reached across her desk and took one of her hands into his. They dwarfed her's now, unlike how they'd been before the serum, but they were warmer now too. He radiated safety, and Hermione felt her fingers linking through his. "I believe you," Steve said, looking deeply at her.

She swallowed. "I think I'd be - well, I ought to start at the beginning I suppose," she said, lightly squeezing his hand. He reciprocated the action, and more of Hermione's nerves settled. "To start, I was born in England. September 19th, 1979."

And then Hermione told him the rest of her story. She spoke of her parents, of Hogwarts, her two closest friends, the prejudice she endured, the teachers she had through the years, Voldemort's War, the Battle of Hogwarts, the many years after she spent forgetting her trauma and trying to learn everything she could get her hands on. Then she spoke of the blue cube, the '_tesseract_', meeting Johann and then Abraham and Peggy. Figuring out she was not only decades in the past, but also from an entirely new world because of a foreign object that was never even identified as magical. Peggy's recruitment for her into the SSR, and then her life in New York. 

She told him everything. Right up through the Runes now found on some of Hydra's new guns. 

"Which is why I've most likely been promoted," Hermione said. "I'm the only one in probably the whole of the world who understands this, other than Hydra right now. If it's not magic, it's _something._"

Steve had never let go of Hermione's hand. Throughout her tale, he had held on and comforted her when the sharp edges of her past slid too deep. His thumb, occasionally, would lightly trace the back of her hand when she re-lived through the loss of something that wasn't as forgotten as she'd hoped. It anchored her, a warm presence as her mind slid to the past, and as the sun went down outside her office window, she realized that they'd been connected for several hours. 

"You've got a big part to play in the War now," Steve said, looking up from their hands and into her eyes. 

"We both do," Hermione agreed. "You'll be needed now more than ever."

Steve shook his head and lowered his eyes to their hands again. "A dancing monkey," he said. "You oughta see the costume they have me in. _America's New Hope_."

"Name of your film?"

"Name of the Tour that Senator Brandts got me on."

Hermione felt for him. Truly, she did. "It was either help him with that or be stuck in a lab in New Mexico," she reminded him.

He nodded. "I know, but for the longest time I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines. Serving my country." His eyes fell. "I finally get everythin I wanted, and I’m wearin tights."

"Not for much longer," Hermione said. "Maybe two more months or three- do a quick dash to New York, Philadelphia, and DC for the Senator's press tour, and then you're the SSRs. We're going to need every soldier we have," she nodded to the photos between them. "Especially when it comes to this."

Steve's eyes lingered on their hands. "I'm glad you told me," he said after a pregnant pause. He looked up. "About you, and your magic, your old world. All of it. I always thought there was something _off_ with- us. And for the longest time I thought it was me-"

Hermione put her other hand over their joined one, and squeezed. "No Steve! It was never that-"

"-but I'm glad you could trust me with this. Your story. I know it's not easy to share-"

"-and Top-Secret," Hermione added. 

He stopped like the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Would you have told me without Colonel Phillips ordering you to?" he asked, looking between her eyes.

Hermione nodded without hesitation. "Eventually," she admitted. "I would have said something eventually. I just would have had to pluck up the courage before we- " she bit her lip. "Well before we got in too deep, you and I, but you _would_ have known." 

She stared into the blues of his eyes. "Does it change things?" she asked. "Between us now?"

Steve smiled and shook his head. A weight Hermione hadn't known she'd been carrying lifted from her shoulders. His smile, a beautifully uneven grin that melted straight through her chest, grew wider and he squeezed her hand once more. "Not at all. I'm stuck on ya doll."

Her heart began to beat wildly. They were both leaning over the hard wooden top of her desk at this point, and she was close enough to smell the shoe shine from his uniform, the Royal Crown pomade from his hair, and something deeper, richer, that was all male and 100% Steve. She breathed it in deeply. It made her feel light headed, and she leaned forwards closer to him, stopping a couple of inches away from his face.

Steve stared down at her, and his eyes dropped farther down to her mouth. 

Hermione tipped her head up. She used their joined hands to push herself forwards off the desk, and she closed the distance between them, kissing Steve gently on the lips. 

It was warm, dry, and soft. Hermione savored the feeling, letting the warmth travel down from the flush of her face, to the arch of her back, and then down to her toes; cherishing the feeling of being so close. 

After a moment, Hermione realized Steve wasn't responding. His lips were frozen, and she broke away with a horrible fear that maybe she'd read all of this all wrong. "Steve, I-"

Steve's hand slid out from under Hermione's hold on the desk. Both palms came down to the sides of her arms, fingers wrapping wholly around her flesh, and he tugged her upwards.

Hermione barely had time to feel the lift of her upper body before Steve's face was pressing downwards and he was kissing her back thoroughly. There was no gentleness in the kiss this time as he bore down on her. It was a hard press of his lips, over and over as he broke through the line of her mouth and his teeth scraped the edges of her lips. His tongue found the inside of her mouth, and she accepted it with a frantic taste of her own. His breath filled her lungs and the heat of his own hunger consumed her. 

Hermione kissed him back just as desperately, keeping up with the fire that was rising from her lower parts and spreading across her skin.

One of his hands traveled from her arm, and slid upwards into the curls of her hair. The pads of his fingers grasped the back of her neck and held her more securely against his lips.

Hermione let her arms fall to the circle of his waist as she tried to just hold on. 

She wasn't sure who ended the kiss first, but they both broke away and breathed heavily against each other, their breath mingling in the close proximity.

"That was-" Steve said hoarsely. He swallowed.

"Yes," Hermione agreed with a whisper. 

He looked down at their precarious situation, Hermione pulled forwards so far over that her shoes nearly left the ground, and his upper body stretched far over the wood while his thighs were nearly ingrained against the oak of her desk. The photographs between them had scattered. He gently released his hold on Hermione, and she felt her feet touch the ground. She unwound her arms from his waist. They made eye contact over her desk, and neither let it go. 

"You've no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he said. He smiled and pushed an errant curl behind her ear. A flush crossed over his face.

"It won't be the last," she smiled, unabashed at the heat over her own skin. 

Steve moved around her desk and planted himself in front of her, close enough that Hermione had to look nearly straight up to see his small smile. Gently, he took the sides of her face in his hands and leaned forwards. He kissed her again then, slow and sweet. The press of his lips tender against her, like he was memorizing the feeling. Hermione didn't think too much on it, as she was doing the same. 

When they broke apart again, Hermione opened her eyes to see Steve's brilliant smile shining down at her. "So if I asked you to go steady with me?" he said, his eyes trapping hers. 

"I'm yours." And she didn't have to think too hard about how easy her answer was afterwards, as Steve bent down once more to claim her lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very slow burn indeed, but we got there!
> 
> Thank you all so much for your support!
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Nick Lachey - Someone to Dance With](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IiXKxQ6dKKU)


	11. Dancing Monkey

* * *

"Let your memories grow stronger and stronger  
'Til they're before your eyes

You'll come back  
When they call you  
No need to say goodbye"

-Regina Spektor, "The Call"

* * *

* * *

August 10 1943 

Steve left the day after she told him everything. 

They spent dinner together in Steve’s tent while reminiscing over Hermione’s days at Hogwarts, and then Steve and Bucky’s childhood adventures in Brooklyn over several bottles of wine. 

It was soon apparent to the both of them that Steve was not able to feel the effects of the alcohol. He wasn’t even a little tipsy off the copious amounts Hermione then had tried making him drink after observation. “For _ science _ Steve!” she’d say bottle after bottle, giving herself ‘tasters’ with every experiment.

Steve looked a little sad and wistful after some time, and Hermione patted him on the back rather drunkenly in consolation. Steve teased her about it for weeks in his following letters.

When the bottles had run dry and the night had turned to early morning, Hermione excused herself on unsteady feet, and Steve helped her walk back to her cabin. He gently kissed her on the lips in the shadow of her cabin’s entrance, and then once more on her cheek. He released her shoulders and stepped back.

She lingered at her cabin’s opening, staring up into the lantern illuminated reflections of his eyes. She waited for a moment, unsure if an invisible que from Steve would show that he wanted something more from her. 

He only smiled softly as she’d turned away and then helped to open her door. They’d known each other for nearly three years now, and while _ this _ was new, they certainly were not. She wasn’t sure if she was delighted that he wanted more than physical companionship with her that night, or disappointed.

The next morning Hermione ignored a slight headache and found a thorough report of the last few weeks of training results and test scores on her desk from Steve, just as she’d asked. She skipped breakfast going over his report, and several other newer reports Peggy dropped off now that she had the clearance to review them. She had military movements. Specialized intelligence. De-coded conversations. Records of the enemies staff. Now, she had a broader view of the War. She could _ do _ more.

Steve was scheduled to leave sometime in the early afternoon to continue with his publicity stunts in America. The Senator’s assistant had left a copy of Steve’s schedule for Hermione, and Steve wasn’t reported to be back in Europe until early October. Almost two months without getting to see each other, and unable to continue this new and fragile _ thing _ between them.

Before Steve’s plane began boarding, Hermione met him on the base’s paved runway. Heavy August clouds shadowed the small plane while the Senator’s media group hauled luggage and equipment on board their transportation.

Hermione felt Steve’s eyes as soon as she’d gotten close, and he walked to intercept her on the tarmac. His tight fitted green officer’s shirt was tucked into his trousers, and his tan tie was pressed neatly through the second button of his shirt. He’d forgone his officers hat, leaving his blonde hair shining in the August sun. Hermione had never seen a more handsome man in her life. 

Steve saluted her as they met before his plane. “Afternoon ma’am,” he said, hands then crossing behind his back. 

Members of the senator’s media group side eyed the pair as they worked around them, and Hermione reminded herself to keep a respectful distance. “Good afternoon Captain,” she said back and motioned to the single duffle bag waiting on the tarmac behind him. “Do you have everything you need?”

He glanced back at his lone bag. “I’ve always usually packed light. I’ve never had much to take with me before all this,” he said turning back to her. “But now the Army says that I’ve got to leave the most important thing I've ever been able to call mine behind. So I wouldn’t say I’ve got... _ everything_.” 

Her usually rapid fire mind went blank. “Well I'm sure whatever it is, it'll still be here by the time you get back." Hermione cleared her throat once. “Two months really isn’t all that long.”

Steve huffed a soft laugh and he looked to the ground before meeting her eyes again. "It’ll be at least eight friday nights without takin her dancin,” he said. “My girl might even forget about me.”

Hermione tried to ignore the shiver that raced down her back at _My girl. _She swallowed. “I highly doubt that would happen Captain.” 

He corners of his mouth lifted. “You think she’ll take pity and save a poor soldier a dance?” 

Hermione folded her arms behind her back and fought back a smile. “I think Brooklyn girls were lying when they said that Bucky is the smooth talker between you two.”

Steve nodded and raised an eyebrow. “Well, the jerk had to learn from someone didn’t he? I had the most time to think about it all.”

Hermione laughed outright. “The next time I see him, I’ll remind him you said that.” She watched the sun filter through his blonde locks and highlight the curve of his lips. “And if you happen to be back soon enough, I _might_ have some time saved up for a dance hall or two.”

Someone from the loaded plane called for Steve to board before he could answer. He gave Hermione a firm salute instead, and then a small smile, just for her. “Yes ma’am. Then soon as I can, I’ll come back round for that dance. Promise.”

She fought the urge to close the distance between them despite the many eyes present.

She was his _ superior _ here, for Merlin’s sake! Gossip was the last thing she needed in her position, especially as a woman.

Hermione's eyes trailed the sunned outlight of his profile swallowed back the urge to do something altogether Gryffindor. She respectfully nodded back and accepted his salute as he turned away.

“Safe flight Captain.”

* * *

October 12 1943 

Howard walked into Hermione’s office without knocking and raised his eyebrows at the many stacks of paper and open folders distributed wildly around the room. Unopened boxes with further supplies lined her short walls and a single typewriter sat on a simple wooden table taken from the wreckage of a bombed out home a block over.

Hermione barely paused in her review of the report in her hands. “Yes Howard?”

“You gonna fully unpack or keep things wrapped up until they move us again?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

Hermione gazed at the hazardous piles of supplies she’d dragged with her from the England base and sighed. “Honestly, I should downsize. Merlin knows I already didn’t have the space to lug this with me, and now its’ made its way here to Italy.”

Howard opened a folder nearest him and raised his eyes at the runes scribbled across. “Did you bring all your research?”

Hermione put down the report. “Much as I could. It would help if we could get a _ sample _ of the weapons that Hydra was manufacturing. I haven’t the option to _ not _bring everything, I’m not sure what we’re up against yet.”

“Maybe we'll get lucky this side of Europe and they’ll leave a shipment in a train or somethin,” he answered, closing her folder. 

Hermione shot him a disbelieving look and stood up from the rickety chair she’d been using. “Did you come down from the labs just to talk about my lack of organization, or did you need something?”

Howard met her eyes, and for the first time Hermione saw that he was holding a telegram. Howard held the paper loosely between his fingers, and Hermione felt a shiver run down her back. “..Is it from Steve?” she asked. “Is he alright?”

Howard shook his head. “No, it’s not from Steve,” he said. 

Relief filled Hermione. “Oh thank-”

“It’s about your friend Bucky,” he continued on, and Hermione froze. “You and Steve’s buddy from the 107th. It just came in. I had to nab it before Jessica in communications could relay it to the others.” 

“What happened?” she breathed. 

Howard opened the telegram. He licked his lips and read aloud, “Members of the 107th Infantry Regiment, previously assigned to Azzano, Italy, were engaged at 14:00 on October 11,1943 by Wehrmacht soldiers on the lower east quadrant of town. From the North-East at 14:30, a battalion of Hydra soldiers sent by Johann Schmidt arrived. A Hydra _Uber Tank_,” Howard stopped his reading to scoff at the weapon name, but Hermione couldn’t find the energy to smile. “The _Uber Tank _fired upon the Wehrmacht soldiers, leaving none behind. The tank then turned its cannon on the 107th and fired upon them.” 

Hermione couldn’t breathe. In her mind, she could see Bucky’s salute and tilt of his lips as he smiled at her in his dress uniform. 

“Were there any survivors?” she asked. 

Howard read through the rest of the telegram. “Some,” he decided with a nod, but the tight feeling in her chest didn’t let up. “This says that less than sixty soldiers are scattered in the wilderness right now, making their way back. _ If _they make it the twenty or so miles back over the front line in one piece, that is. The rest were either killed or captured.”

Hermione sat back down heavily in her chair. Less than 60 men were on their way back. Probably injured. In a heavily war infested zone. And one of them might be Bucky. One of the honest few friends she had in this world. 

“Rescue options?” she asked. 

Howard shook his head. “The news just came in. I recognized the division ‘cause of you and Steve, but Phillips hasn’t had a chance to look it over yet.”

Strength flooded Hermione and she stood from her chair. “Then I’ve got a chance. I’ll go down and convince him to let someone get them.”

Howard tucked the telegram into his coat pocket and smiled. “I didn’t doubt it for a minute.”

* * *

November 2nd, 1943 

“How many?” Peggy’s static ridden voice asked from the handset of Hermione’s EE-8 Field Phone. 

“Fifty-three,” she answered back. She pushed a dirtied curl under the edge of her bandana that held back the rest of her braid, and tried to stop the shaking of her fingers on the receiver. Cold November mist escaped her with every breath, and she fought the chattering of her teeth where Peggy would hear. “Jameson and McDaniels passed. We tried the best we could, but fever took them sometime in the night.”

Waking up this morning and seeing eyes that would never open again made Hermione want to curse herself for the 1000th time since the beginning of this mission for not investing in medical magic at home. She could have helped those young men. She could have _ saved _ them. 

"Barnes?" Her friend asked.

Hermione swallowed and clutched the phone handle tighter. "Negative."

“Fifty-three soldiers is more than none,” Peggy answered back steadily. No judgement or emotion colored her voice. “We can assemble a pickup a few miles Northeast of Bolzano, the next town over. Another 10 miles. No planes, but transportation for everyone back into base. We've moved North to the bottom of Grossglockner, a mountain just on the inside of Austria You’re almost there.”

“Affirmative,” Hermione agreed, too tired for much else. 

“Did we find any of our blue objectives?”

The reported ‘purpose’ of her trek across Italy. Hermione gritted her teeth. “Negative.”

There was a silence on the other side for a moment. “Steve’s entourage arrived this morning. There’s a show scheduled for sometime today.”

Hermione swallowed. She’d been afraid of that. “What did you tell him?”

“The truth. That you’re away on mission.”

“Does he know -” Hermione shook herself. “Nevermind. I’ll tell him everything myself. Thank you.”

“Stay alive,” Peggy warned, and then the call was closed. 

Hermione wrapped the handset and cord back into the leather side case that hung over her shoulder and stood to her feet. She ducked out of the crumbling room she was using through a blown out wall and walked back over to her men. 

Well, not _ her _ men, but the fifty- eight men she’d been responsible for this past week since she’d lead the operation of rescue with Colonel Phillips permission. 

Well, Hermione nearly sighed. Although '_Permission_’ might be too strong of a word.

“_And the only reason I’m letting this happen, Agent Granger_,” Colonel Phillips' voice still echoed in her ears, even two weeks later, “-_is that we have no other option right now. We still need to find some of those fancy blue weapons of yours that’s got Congress so upset."_

Hermione had nodded along in attention.

_"Those glowing guns might tip the scale of this War, and so far not a single devision has been able to get ahold of any. That is your mission. This is not a rescue in our Agency's playbook, do you hear me?"_ His stare had nailed her to the ground, and she had nodded back gravely. 

“_Good._ _However,_" his eyes had swept the open tent he was commanding from and lowered his voice so passing soldiers couldn't hear him._ "If you do just happen to find missing boys out there, you’ll need extra rations, and equipment to bring them back." _He stared at her meaningfully, and Hermione dipped her head again. "_You__ can take five, and I mean only five volunteers with you for this little expedition. Agent Carter and Stark can not assist, they have their own work. Do you understand? _”

With the unsteady “_Yes sir" _that followed, Hermione gathered her volunteers, said her goodbyes to those at the camp she knew, and then headed out into war infested Italy.

That had been two weeks ago, and it had been raining hell since. 'The Gothic Line', a metaphorical line in the dirt where the German defensive stood against the Italian Campaign for the Allies, changed every day. While Hermione was not technically on the _front_ lines of the fighting as she made her way Northeast across Azano, she encountered long days freezing rain, several close calls with German soldiers, surprise landmines, and nearly getting shot through the skull by a hidden sniper on five separate occasions. However, the silver linging in those days was that she was able to find missing members of several either lost or broken units during this time, the 107th included.

She was a soldier at this point, rescuing other soldiers. No longer a lab technician or secretary, but another Allied pair of hands in the mess of Europe. Her wand was secured under her jacket sleeve, and she nearly always slept with her gun in hand. She hadn't had to shoot anyone point blank yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time. For now, she had helped rescue enough wandering soldiers that she could get away with muttered wandless spells that helped either create diversions or lucky shots for the soldiers following her. 

“Ma’am?” someone asked, and Hermione looked up as she got closer to the group. 

Percival Pinkerton, known by the group simply as Pinky, was an English member of one of the British Airborne Divisions, known as the 'Red Devils’. His plane had gone down a week prior right over Hermione’s head and she had pulled him from the wreckage before his plane had caught fire and exploded. He was also currently her second in command. 

“We’ve got transportation” she answered, and several other men turned towards her. “A 10 mile march, a truck ride to base, and then we should be back by late lunch time gentlemen.”

Smiles broke across faces and slaps on the back were traded around the men. “That's the best damn news I heard all month,” another member from the previous 107th laughed, and Hermione ignored the pang in her chest over her still missing friend from the same regiment. Others nodded and the exhaustion over their faces fell behind grateful smiles. 

Hermione savored the moment, relishing the easiness in the air that had been absent for the past two weeks before tucking her hands behind her back, and addressing them again. “We still have those 10 miles to go, and even then we are still in the enemy's land. Don’t let this distract you,” she warned, looking at every dirtied face with complete conviction. “I expect everyone present to remain vigilant until we have our feet back on base. I’m not losing a soul after everything we’ve been through. Am I understood?”

“Yes Ma’am!” a chorus of echos barked back. 

“Then get moving gentlemen, I’d rather we get back before all the Spam is gone.”

Groans and laughs filled the air and Hermione turned to Pinky as everyone got to their feet. “Have Jameson and McDaniels been buried?”

Pinky fixed his red beret atop his head before patting the outside of his mud encrusted uniform. “I have their _ dog tags _ as the American’s say, to bring back.” He patted his chest again. “Although I do wonder if they’ll want McDaniel’s.”

Hermione frowned. “Why would they not?” she asked. Both had been in 107th, lost before she could bring them back to base.

Pinky watched the men around them fall into their marching formation, and took a step closer to whisper under his breath, “It was known by some of his comrades that he was a _ demone _as the Italians say it.” His eyes flickered over the men and came closer.

“A what?” Hermione asked with furrowed brows. “Isn’t that the Italian word for demon?”

Pinky blinked in surprise. “Have they not told you?” his own eyebrows came together. “They are not common I’ll grant you, but i’d thought his majesty’s militants would have been debriefed-”

“Well I haven’t Mr. Pinkerton,” she interrupted rather crossly. Although Pinky was a Private in his majesty’s military, he had gone to the best Officer’s school in Europe as a young man before he’d flunked out and then had been dismissed by his family. “And I don’t approve of all the melodramatic suspense. What-”

“Agent Granger, we’re ready ma’am,” Cobalt, a sniper from the French Resistance they’d found two days ago saluted. 

“Agent Granger and I will take the tail,” Pinky answered before she could.

Hermione swallowed her retort and nodded. “Cobalt, you and Munnins have the front. Keep yesterday's formation.”

“Ma’am,” he saluted again, and turned away. 

Hermione and Pinky took the rear of the line, occasionally walking backwards to watch the disappearing town and landscape behind them with narrowed eyes. “So Private,” Hermione began again, her voice low. 

Pinky’s eyes never left the horizon around them. “According to military legend, now I know to be very true, is that there are a very small number of individuals in this world that are blessed with certain _ abilities _ at birth.”

Hermione fought to keep her face calm and steady in her steps.That sounded an awful lot like what McGonagall had said to her and her parents when she was first introduced to magic before Hogwarts. “What… kind of abilities?”

Pinky shifted his rifle. “There’s so few reports of them it’s hard to know what’s true, but it could be anything. Some might have irregular super strength, flying… There were even reports of someone in New York codenamed_ The Torch _ in the 30’s who could somehow control fire,” he said, “_become _ fire.”

Hermione could barely breathe. She had seen the ruins of Hogwarts, she knew that no one of her world was reflected in this one, but _ abilities _ such as those were beyond normal human domain. “And so, McDaniels?” she urged.

Pinky met her gaze for a moment. “According to his mates, he never did anything - _ strange _, but when I went to bury the body, his true form emerged from his death.”

“His _true _ form?” Hermione asked. 

Pinky nodded. “If they have the ability to defy human standards of physical limitations, it could be reasoned that they could have the ability to hide it as well, right?” he answered, and Hermione’s mind raced. “Well when I went to bury McDaniels, he had _ yellow _ eyes from tear duct to waterline. The entirety of the inside of his eyes, a bright yellow.”

“That could be an indication of illness, like jaundice,” Hermione frowned. 

“Not like this,” he argued. “They _ glowed_, like a cat or an owl. His pupil was _ slit _ like one. And his upper jaw was… well it had _ canines _ like a dog or wolf might have.”

_ Like a werewolf_, Hermione thought to herself immediately. 

“Was there anything else?” she asked. “Other irregularities?” 

“Well I didn’t perform an autopsy, love,” Pinky said with a shake of his head. “But if I were to, I’d bet on anything I'd find other differences as well.”

Hermione nodded to herself. A whole different type of people among the muggles, like in her world, but without magic. Able to do, _ control_, something _ else. _ She nearly laughed, it was so _ similar _ to her world. She wondered if there might be a school that reflected this difference like Hogwarts did.

“Have you heard of… anyone else?” she asked.

Pinky shook his head, his red beret vibrant in the November air. “They don’t make themselves known.” He raised an eyebrow. “And for good reason, don’t you think?” he motioned to the empty countryside around them. “People are dying by the millions because they’re _ Jewish_. Could you imagine if someone found out they had glowing eyes? Or could control fire? Or heaven, even _ fly_?” he asked and shook his head. “No, I don’t think they’ll ever reveal themselves unless they absolutely had to. It would be the witch trials all over again the poor bastards.” He shook his head again, and Hermione felt her heart fall in her chest. 

Because he was right, wasn’t he? It was why Hermione herself couldn’t come forward to help more in the War and had to lie to most of who she knew. She couldn’t _ reveal _ who she truly was, or she’d be locked up, experimented on, and killed for her differences. She understood the need for their privacy all too well. 

“I think,” Hermione said with a shallow swallow, “That we should inform headquarters that we buried McDaniels and Jameson in the Church grounds near the last village. They’ll be less inclined to dig up the remains to send home.”

Hermione felt Pinky’s stare on the side of her face, and Hermione clenched her teeth. Then, when his silence became almost too much, he turned back to the countryside and said decisively, “Ma’am.”

* * *

Later that Afternoon

As soon as Hermione's boots hit solid ground back on base, she dismissed her men to the field hospital. It was raining heavily and the icy cold seemed to seep into her very bones as she made a beeline to Colonel Phillips tent. She could hear blaring music from the opposite side of the camp, and her heart _ached_ to see the face she knew that would be on that stage, but she buried her feelings with every step farther into base. When she arrived at Colonel Phillips tent, she entered without knocking and came face to face with Howard.

"Hermione!" he said with raised eyebrows. He grasped both sides of the tops of her arms. "You're here! We were just talking about-"

"Stark, don't you have somewhere to be?" Colonel Phillips interrupted from behind him, sitting at a hastily constructed wooden desk. 

"But Hermione-"

"Now Stark," the Colonel said, and Howard released her arms with a sigh.

"I'll see you soon doll," he said with a weak grin, and walked out of the tent behind her. 

"Sir?" Hermione moved farther into his office space and saluted, before crossing her dirtied uniform sleeves behind her back. 

The Colonel twined his hands together with his elbows elevating them close to his lips. He stared at her, taking in the unwashed hair, muddy uniform, and tired bags under her eyes. "Your objective, Agent Granger?" he asked finally after several tense moments.

"A failure Sir," Hermione replied evenly. "The Nazis encountered held none of Hydra's weapons, and we encountered none of Hydra's men ourselves."

"Count yourselves lucky, I doubt you could have taken them yourself, magic wand or no."

"Sir," Hermione answered, without remark. She was much too tired for a proper engagement of the minds at the moment.

He sighed and leaned back into his chair. "And the men?"

"Fifty-three sir," she said. "Several lost throughout the night by their injuries."

He nodded, and Hermione tensed for the next question she knew would be coming. The same questions she'd been asking herself for the past two weeks. _Why weren't you able to save them? What good is your magic if you can't help dying men?_

"I'll be honest Agent Granger, I expected less," he stated. Hermione's eyes widened. "You did a service to not only your country, but to the Allies as a whole. Fifty-Three men will get to say they made it home because of you. Good job." He stood up from his desk. "A damn fine job," he continued and held out a hand to her. 

Hermione took the offered appendage and shook it under unsteady feet. "Th- Thank you Sir."

They released hands, but he remained standing. "And your Sergeant Barnes?" he asked. 

Hermione swallowed the pain, tears, and anxiety down with a simple shake of her head. "No Sir, some of his team thinks he might have been captured with several others of the 107th."

"Was that confirmed?"

"No Sir."

He sighed. "So it is as it was." He grimaced. "Does Rogers know?"

Hermione's heart sunk in her chest. "No Sir."

He sat back down at his desk. "I see. Well if that's the case-"

The tent opened from behind Hermione, and a gust of cold November wind swept across the the back of Hermione's muddied trousers. "Colonel!" someone said, and Hermione turned with wide eyes.

Steve was wearing a dingy green overcoat, his hair was slick from the rain, but his eyes burned in the afternoon light from outside. His gaze slid over Hermione, and then did a double take as he walked fully into the tent with Peggy hot on his heels. 

"Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled-Man-With-A-Plan," the Colonel answered. "And what_ is_ your plan today?"

Steve's eyes left Hermione and he stopped in front of the Colonel's desk without a salute or proper attention. Hermione felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. "I need the casualty list from Azzano."

Hermione's heart dropped even farther, and her eyes slid to Peggy. Her friend gave her a deeply apologetic look as the Colonel's voice lowered. _He knew. _"You don’t get to give me orders, son."

Steve continued on like a cement wall against beach waves. "I just need one name. Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th."

Colonel Phillips clenched his jaw and traded looks between Hermione and Peggy. "This is what I meant Agent Granger. Too green to keep a cool head while you-"

"Please tell me if he’s alive, sir," Steve interrupted, and Hermione took a step closer as the colonel's eyes narrowed. "B-A-R-"

"I can spell," Phillips interrupted back like the heavy lashing of a whip. "And the name does sound familiar, but why don't you try sitting the hell down before you make a damn fool of yourself even further _Captain_."

Hermione watched Steve physically swallow back his retort. "Sir," he answered instead. 

"Good," Colonel Phillips stood up. "Now while you playing chorus girl with the Senator off in Safety-Town America, Agent Granger was bringing home missing members of your 107th."

Steve's eyes widened, and his head snapped to Hermione. 

She kept her eyes on the Colonel as Steve fully took in her rain drenched appearance. "Hermione-"

"She went out with five men and returned with fifty-eight," the Colonel continued, "-including all five she'd left with. That's what you'd call _leadership_ Rodgers-"

"What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?" Steve interrupted yet again.

Hermione's exhaustion snapped into anger at his tone. "_Steven_."

He had wanted to be apart of the military for so long, and had he learned nothing? Personal feelings aside, the Colonel was his _commanding officer_. 

"Yes Rogers! It’s called winning the War," the colonel raised his voice. 

Steve's eyes flicked to Hermione for a moment, before he answered back and nodded to the heavily pinned map hanging behind the Colonel, "But if you know where they are, why not at least-"

Her anger cooled. "The base they're most likely being held at is in a city called Krausberg, 30 miles behind enemy line Steve," Hermione answered. "Sitting between two mountain ranges and in the most heavily fortified territory in Europe right now."

"We would lose more men than we would save," the Colonel summed up evenly. He stared Steve straight in the eye. "Not that I would expect you to understand that, as a fake soldier singing show tunes."

Deadly silence filled the tent, and Hermione's lips parted in surprise. 

"I think I understand just fine, Sir," Steve finally answered.

"Well then understand it somewhere else," The Colonel said, and turned back to his desk. "If I read the posters correctly, you got some place to be in thirty minutes."

Hermione saw Steve study the map, and then turn away to the tents entrance. "Yes Sir I do."

Hermione moved to follow Steve out of the tent and Phillips held up a finger. Hermione froze. "If you have something to say, right now is the perfect time to keep it to yourself." Hermione clenched her jaw and walked out of the tent without a backwards glance. 

Heavy rain struck Hermione as she ran to follow after Peggy, who disappeared into a large tent Hermione figured must be Steve's. She made it into the tent just as she heard Peggy say, "-your friend is most likely dead."

Steve was methodically packing things into a small rucksack as he answered back without looking up," You don't know that."

Peggy furrowed her brows. The rain had splattered her normally perfect curls tight against her skull, and mud ran down the back of her stockings. "Even so, he’s devising a strategy," she rushed. "If he detects-"

Steve shoved his arms into a thick leather jacket. "By the time he’s done that, it could be too late!" his raised his voice. He picked up his rucksack and a thin red, white, and blue shield from his things with determination, and looked up. His eyes met Hermione's. He froze. 

"Steve," Hermione whispered. 

She watched as he slowly stood up straight. "I can't be a dancing monkey anymore Hermione." The white star on what must be his costume stood out from beneath the edges of his leather jacket. Rain water dripped from his hair down his face, and she followed the curves of his eyes as she took him all in. Two months hadn't been all that long, but they were both changed. And Bucky _needed_ Steve right now. 

"I know," she answered, and walked to him. She ran her fingers over the arm of his leather jacket and nodded. "Come back in one piece, do you hear me?"

Steve's eyes burned into her and he pushed back a wet curl from the side of her face with the barest of touches. "Yes Ma'am," he answered softly. His fingers lifted the bottom of her chin upwards, and Hermione moved from memorizing every part of his face, to concentrating on his eyes. "I'm going to go get Bucky, but I'm coming back for you."

Heat radiated from his fingers and it seemed to ignite everything inside Hermione despite her soaking clothes. She smiled. 

"And I can get him there in one piece," Peggy said from behind. "Stark still owes me for my 10 percent."

When Hermione turned to look at her friend, she had a small smirk on her face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The term 'Mutant' wasn't coined until the 1960s, so the few individuals who make themselves known before that time, fall into other terms across the world that highlight their differences.
> 
> Percival Pinkerton (Pinky) if you didn't catch on, is one of the original Howling Commandos. I've made a slight editorial adjustment with him, as he was originally with Bucky and the boys in Austria when Steve rescued them. Instead, he'll be helping our girl out while she's trekking the wilds of Italy.
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Regina Spektor - The Call](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pCEUpVukAe8)


	12. Such A Small, Little Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the thing. Steve and Hermione are separate individuals. They will not being doing everything together all of the time as this is Steve's journey just as must as it's Hermione's! That's why Hermione was never going to go with Steve to rescue Bucky and Co. This is one of Steve's defining moments in learning leadership and decision making under extreme pressure. PLUS Hermione literally just came back from a two week mission in one of the most dangerous places in the world. She's exhausted. She'd be more of a weight than a help if she were to go too.

* * *

"I don't say a word  
But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know  
There you go, saving me from out of the cold"

\- Sam Smith, "Fire on Fire"

* * *

* * *

November 3rd,1943

Hermione woke to the sound of a nurse lightly knocking at the entrance of her cabin. She sat bolt upright in her cot, her hair rising in every direction, and her eyes going wide. _Steve_, was her first waking thought. 

"Yes?" Hermione said, blinking the sleep from her eyes several times, trying to focus on the young woman. "What is it?"

The brunette haired nurse leaned against the wood of her door frame with obvious exhaustion. The stains on her white uniform indicated she'd been working in the hospital throughout the night. "It's Colonel Phillips ma'am. He's asked to see you."

Dread pulled at the pit of Hermione's stomach. Steve was technically still in employ with the Senator, and he was currently missing. Gone on an unsanctioned mission with Hermione, Peggy, and Howard's knowledge and obvious help. If he wasn't going to yell at her, it was sure to be a sacking. 

Hermione swallowed. "Alright thank you. I'll be there momentarily." 

The nurse nodded, and turned to the door. "Ma'am."

Hermione stood from her cot. "And be sure to eat something," Hermione added kindly before she left. "You look like you could use a weeks ration of coffee."

The corners of the nurse's mouth lifted and her tired eyes warmed. "I feel like I could too. Thank you ma'am," she gave one last smile and then was gone. 

Hermione made sure the door was closed after her, and reached for her wand under her pillow that she had charmed over with a _notice-me-not_. She cast a silencing spell around the edge of her cabin and reached for her uniform. Her fingers stroked the cotton of her tan tie and she looked to the small mirror that was nailed to a support beam across the room. Frizzy morning hair, pale skin, and dark impressions under her eyes stared back at her. She grimaced. Her gaze fell to her cosmetics bag sitting just below the mirror and she resolutely waved her wand. If she was to be sacked today, she was damn well going to look her best in front of the patriarchy. 

When Hermione made it to the Colonel's open aired station of command at the heart of camp, she knew that her efforts had succeeded. Not even the brisk November morning air could dampen the heat of the numerous eyes pursuing her movements. She had charmed her hair into perfect curls and pinned them back from her face to tumble over shoulders like waterfalls. Her uniform was impeccably pressed and cleaned, and she was wearing her best lipstick. She looked _wonderful_ and she knew it. It made her feel like a thousand galleons. 

Peggy seemed to have the same idea, Hermione noticed, as she reached the entrance with the already present Agent. Peggy's complexion was completely smoothed, her hair was in tight curls, and she was wearing a darker shade of lipstick that complimented the red highlights in her hair. 

Peggy noticed her entrance and took a step to the side so they could stand before the Colonel together. Hermione took her place beside her friend and raised her chin to the Colonel.

He stood in front of the pair, leaning against a table that sat a young soldier with a typewriter. The soldier was typing diligently after the Colonel word for word. "Senator Brant," Colonel Phillips said, and the punches of the typewriter filled the air. "I regret to report that Captain Steven G Rogers went missing behind enemy lines on November the 3rd, 1943. Aerial reconnaissance has proven unfruitful. As a result, I must declare Captain Rogers killed in action." He licked his lips and looked to the young man. "Period." 

He looked back to Hermione and Peggy and put his hands on his hips. Fatigue lined his eyes. "You have anything to add?" he asked them.

Hermione fought the motion to swallow. 

Peggy seemed to have no regard for the tension in the room and offered a file of photos that she had been holding. "The last surveillance flight is back," she said and Colonel Phillips accepted the folder. He thumbed through a couple of black and white images Hermione couldn't see from her distance, and Peggy disregarded the images with downcast eyes. "There's been no sign of activity." 

Hermione felt her heart drop.

Peggy had come to her in the dark hours of the morning, windswept and shivering from the cold, but with news of Steve's descent into enemy territory. The fact that he had _jumped_ out of the airplane in bullet infested enemy airspace, and ejected miles away from his original landing point had made Hermione toss and turn throughout the night. She had hoped for some sort of word after that. Better to know the result of his expedition now than wonder if he had been blown out of the sky in his descent, or if he was hung from a tree during his landing, or if he had been shot and killed before he'd even stepped foot onto the enemy base. 

She tried to remain positive in this new light however. No news might mean good news. 

Colonel Phillips still held one of the photos. "Go get a cup of coffee, Corporeal," he ordered without looking up.

The young man behind the typewriter stood up. "Yes, Sir," he answered immediately, and left the tent. Only the three of them remained. 

Colonel Phillips put the photo back in the file and walked to the other side of the tent, his hands back on his hips. He looked to the clear skies outside. "They can't touch Stark," he started. "He's rich, and he's the Army's number one weapons contractor." He turned around to face them. "Neither of you are either one," he said. "Do you know what that means?"

"Respectfully, Sir, I don't regret my actions," Peggy answered. She met his gaze unflinchingly. "And I don't think Captain Rogers did either."

His jaw clenched. His eyes turned to Hermione. "And you, Agent Granger?" 

_He's not dead. He can't be._ "Yes, Sir. I don't regret it either, Sir."

Colonel Phillips scowled. "Well then I don't give a damn about your opinions." He turned to Peggy. "I took a chance on bringing you on," he said, and glowered at Hermione. "And you were an accident that I didn't have to get my hands in. Now look at us." He shook his head in disgust.

Hermione's throat swelled, and she clenched her teeth.

"America's Golden Boy, and a lot of good men are dead right now," he said dangerously low, and settled his gaze on Hermione, "all because you had a crush."

"I believe in him," Hermione snapped back. "It's called faith."

Colonel Phillips stared back stonily, ignoring her present tense. "Well I hope that keeps you warm at night when they shut this division down."

Hermione's heart raced, but she didn't look away. She couldn't. _He's not dead. He's not_. 

The Colonel's attention was driven away from her when several loud shouts started overlapping each other from outside the tent. "There's no way-!"

"You gotta see this!"

"-can't believe it!"

Colonel Phillips placed his hands behind his back, and he narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is goin on out there?" he growled, and stepped in between Peggy and Hermione to the door behind them. 

The warmth of Peggy's hand on Hermione's shoulder stopped the frantic mantra of _He's not dead. He can't be. He isn't. Steve's not gone. He's not_. circling in her mind. Her eyes fluttered open up at Peggy, but the panic and subsequent guilt of letting Steve go out alone filled her lungs like rising water. She felt as if she was drowning, breath by breath.

Peggy's fingers curled around the base of Hermione's neck and she stepped in close enough for Hermione to smell her lavender perfume.

"He's not dead," Hermione said so softly, it might as well have been a whisper. 

Peggy pressed her lips together and moved her hand to Hermione's back. "Come along. We should see what the fuss is about."

The unbreakable steel in her friends eyes calmed Hermione's hitching breath. She just had to wait. It didn't matter what the reconnaissance said. _Steve will find his way back. He'll come back. _She just had to wait.

Peggy lead her securely through the tents entrance, and they followed the frantic steps of soldiers nearly breaking out into jogs at something over the eastern hill of camp. Hermione came fully back to the present when the sound of heavy machinery accompanied the noise of the soldiers around her. Then, there were the echoing '_thumps'_ of marching feet from the same direction. The marching of many, many feet.

Hermione's eyebrows drew together. They weren't under attack, that was for sure. But they weren't meant to receive any further support either. 

"Look who it is!" someone yelled, and a wave of cheers and enthusiastic applause rose over the soldiers. Hermione and Peggy exchanged a bewildered look before catching up to Colonel Phillips. Soldiers parted like the red sea ahead. Hermione's eyes widened as she got closer to the disturbance.

A five man width column of more than four hundred mud encrusted soldiers marched determinedly forwards through the camp's Eastern entrance. An _Uber _tank and several tarp covered hummers and trucks drove in the midst of the exhausted, but grinning returning Allied soldiers. They were all the POWs from the Hydra factory in Krausberg. Most held guns with a familiar blue tint in the magazine, but Hermione couldn't look away from a dusty and battered familiar face leading the lot of them at the front. 

Hermione's breath left her. "Steve," she managed to say, and Peggy let out a sharp puff of air. 

Cheers began anew as row and row of returning soldiers filled the awakening camp. Men moved out of the way as Colonel Phillips made a direct line to Steve, and when Hermione's soldier stopped in front of the Colonel and saluted him with the fear of God in his eyes, Hermione's heart expanded in her chest. A smile broke across her face. Relief then hit her over the head like a metal bat, and Peggy gently wrapped fingers around Hermione's wrist. 

Steve dropped his salute. "Some of these men need medical attention," he started. 

Colonel Phillips gazed at the rows of men behind Steve, who were coming to a stop behind the Captain that had led them home. Medics began to disburse from the field hospital into the new soldiers for the wounded. Steve caught sight of Hermione's face behind the Colonel, and she watched his eyes go up and down her figure as if he was checking _her_ for injures. His eyes came back to Colonel Phillips. 

"I'd also like to surrender myself for disciplinary -"

"That won't be necessary," the Colonel interrupted, and his hands went behind his back. 

Hermione watched as Steve's jaw nearly dropped. 

The Colonel raised an eyebrow, and Steve's face went neutral. The Colonel grinned.

"Yes, Sir," Steve said softly.

The older soldier turned from Steve and met Hermione's eyes with a mirth that Hermione had never seen before. "Faith, huh?" he seemed to nod to himself. "Well, faith it is."

Hermione watched as he walked away from the crowd with a grin at the edges of his mouth, his hands in his pockets. 

When she turned back, she met the intense blue eyed gaze of her - _boyfriend? Lover?_ No, no title seemed to fit at that moment. He was _hers_, just as she was _his_, and that was it. 

Hermione didn't realize they were staring at each other until Peggy walked pointedly forwards and slowly evaluated Steve's dirtied appearance. Hermione jumped into the awakened mind, and followed her friend as Peggy raised her chin. "You're late, Captain."

Steve smiled. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a transmitter with a clear bullet hole in the middle, showing the top half that had been blow away. "I couldn't call my ride," he answered with a grin. 

Peggy raised an eyebrow at the machinery, and Hermione laughed. 

Steve's gaze dropped back down to Hermione, but it was a different voice that caught her by surprise. 

"It's good to see you smile like that doll-face," it said, and Hermione's eyes widened at a bleary eyed, ragged looking man standing beside Steve. 

"Bucky!" Hermione smiled, and darted forwards. She stopped herself from throwing her arms around the man in front of every soldier in camp, and instead clasped his arms against her palms. His hair was limp, there were dark circles under his eyes, and dirt nearly covered every square inch of his skin, but he was _alive_. "I'm so glad you're okay!" Hermione nearly cried. "I tried to find you and I thought - Well, it doesn't matter now, I'm so happy to see you! Alot of people were very worried."

Bucky grinned and lightly pulled on one of her curls. "Alot of people huh?" He suddenly grimaced. "You didn't tell Rebecca did you?"

Hermione shook her head."No, no I didn't have the heart to tell your sister to be honest."

He smiled. "Good, I'd hate to have to give her a heart attack before her wedding."

"She's getting married?" Hermione asked, surprised. 

"Probably already is by this time. Ralph got drafted about a month ago."

"Oh-" Hermione faltered. She had met the couple several times in Brooklyn, but Hermione knew that Becca was young. She'd only turned eighteen less than five months ago. "Bucky, I'm real sorry you had to miss-"

"Ain't no use cryin over spilled milk now doll," he said, and pulled on her curl once more before stepping back from her embrace. "We'll have ourselves a celebration after we win the War."

She smiled at his warmth. "Yes," Hermione immediately agreed, and met Steve's eyes. "After the War."

Soldiers began to disperse into the camp around them, and Bucky raised his voice. "Ey!" He called, and heads turned. "Let's hear it for _Captain America!" _

Thunderous applause swept over Hermione. Whoops and cheers echoed off the pine trees. Men laughed to each other, and further chants were thrown in with their celebration.

"Fuck those Krauts!"

"For the Captain!"

"You great American asshole!"

Steve took in the praise with a half smile, his gaze sweeping over the men surrounding him in satisfaction. Some might have called it pride, but Hermione knew he was just grateful he had the chance to save lives.

As the cheers began to crescendo in the clearing, charged with the last lingering energy of desperate men finding escape from certain death, Steve's face turned down. His attention fully fell over Hermione like the caress of a hot fire on a chilled evening. It seemed to seep into her skin and awaken every part of her body she'd thought long put to rest. 

He smiled at her. The blue costume helmet that he wore on stage only the day before shielded his eyes from the rest of the men, but Hermione was at the perfect height beneath his face to see the overwhelmed flash of his eyes under his thankful expression.

* * *

November 5th, 1943

"I can't explain it," Howard said, removing the goggles covering his eyes and narrowing them at his microscope. "It's like nothing I've ever seen before."

Hermione grimaced. She'd been afraid of that. "Well what _can_ you tell me?" she asked.

Howard took a frustrated swig of something dark colored from a glass on his desk, and wiped the sleeve of his white coat across his lips. "It's what we thought originally." He motioned to the blue colored sample they'd extracted from a Hydra gun. "It's some kind of energy. _How_ they produced it, or where they even got the components for it is beyond even me."

"Do you want me to take a look at it?" Hermione asked, eyes scanning the room filled with Howard's assistants. "Later on?"

Howard frowned for a moment, before his eyebrows rose. "Oh, you mean with your - can you scan things with it?"

"It's a tool Howard. I can do lots of things."

He nodded. "It's actually not a bad idea. I might just have to take you up on that. But here-" He stepped away from the microscope. "-come look at this."

He led Hermione across the lab to a thickly enclosed metal box with metal claw-like arms inside with only one thick pane of glass to help them view inside of it. Hermione watched as Howard stood behind the machine and navigated one of the claw arms to remove another small sample from the Hydra magazine. A glowing blue speck less than half the size of her pinky nail tipped the metal. 

"We found that its emission signature is unusual. Alpha and Beta ray are both neutral." He winked at her. "Not that any of our new soldiers noticed that, bringing these things in."

"I feel as if they'd been rather preoccupied Howard," Hermione answered.

"That's what they all say."

She struggled not to roll her eyes. "Although both rays are interesting." Hermione frowned. "What about Gamma ray?"

Howard glanced at her. "High. Gamma emission is very high."

Hermione felt something tickle at the corner of her mind. Something she'd forgotten. Something about the strange blue energy, and of all things, _gamma radiation_. Somehow there was a connection, wasn't there?

Howard went back to the sample. "But it looks harmless enough." He navigated the arms closer together. "Such a small, little thing. Hard to see what the fuss is about."

"Gamma radiation," Hermione echoed to herself just above a whisper._ Gamma radiation, the product of radioactive nuclear decay. _She concentrated. _Where have I heard this before? _

Howard moved the metal arms closer and closer to each other.

Hermione recalled a conversation in Germany three years ago. From a completely different world.

Her breath stopped. Her eyes widened, and then zeroed in on the luminous energy.

"Howard, don't-!"

The second metal arm touched the speck of blue, and a white electrical current blazed across the metal and energy source. 

Hermione only had the chance to inhale, before she was thrown backward off her feet in a resounding explosion. The observation window burst outwards. Hermione flew through the air and crash landed against the cement wall on the opposite side of the room. Her head slammed against the stone, and she dropped like a troll to the ground. Glass showered her from above. 

Howard struggled to sit up from where he had landed beside Hermione, shards of glass falling from his lab coat and hair. His glazed eyes tried to focus. "Someone-" he coughed, and several lab assistants got to their feet and rushed forwards. "Write that down!"

Hermione felt the dark edges of unconsciousness close in around her. She tried to lift her head. It felt as if someone had put dumbbells on her neck. Glass fell from her curls. "Howard-" she gasped. 

"Her-Hermione!" 

She heard faint shuffling at her side, and felt a warm hand touch her jaw. It came away slick against her skin. 

"Herm- Someone get a medic!" Howard roared to the room. 

"Howard-" Hermione tried again, blinking furiously at the spinning room and encroaching darkness. "Power- sss- Tesseract."

"Hermione, hold on!"

"Tesser-" Hermione managed once more, before her eyes rolled up into the back on her head, and then she knew no more.

* * *

* * *

Hermione awoke on the rooftop of a skyscraper.

She blinked several times, hands traveling the length of her body for the cuts and bruises she was sure she would find from the explosion. When she felt nothing but the brisk outside air of a smog filled city, Hermione sat up. 

She quickly took a look around the empty rooftop, and managed to get to her feet. Looking over the edge of the building, she realized several things. 

1) Thick concrete buildings filled the horizon around her, which meant she was no longer in the forest in Italy, but in a large city.

2) The cars navigating through the blocky streets were driving on the right side of the lane, and advertisements wrapping around some of the buildings indicated that she was in an English speaking place. So she was not in England, but most likely, a large American City. New York, or maybe San Francisco. 

3) And lastly, every advertisement and car style she saw made it look like she was back in 2007. 

"Do you recognize where you are?" a woman's voice asked from behind.

Hermione jumped in place and spun around to the new voice. When her eyes landed, her brows rose.

For behind her, a bald woman a little taller than Hermione, stood wrapped in what looked like layers of Tibetan robes colored in orange, blue, and purple. She had very pale skin, blue eyes, and sharp cheekbones that seemed to take up most of her face. The crinkles at the corners of her eyes indicated the years of life she had lived, but Hermione couldn't tell if she was youthful, or elder. It was as if she was in a perpetual state of inbetween. 

"Who - who are you?"

She gave Hermione an airy lift of her lips. "My students call me the Ancient One," she answered, and a shiver passed down Hermione's back. "However, I am Sorceress Supreme of this world, Master and teacher of the mystic arts."

Hermione stared. The breath left her lungs. Her eyes filled with unshed tears, and desperate relief swept over her. "M-Magic," she whispered. "You're a teacher of magic." 

The Ancient One nodded. "As you are a wielder."

Hermione's mind raced, and her relief turned into suspicion. Several questions nearly erupted forth, but Hermione settled with the most pressing. "How do you know me? Where are we?"

The Ancient One walked forwards, and placed her thin hands behind her back. She looked over the edge of the building. "Do you not know? This is in _your_ mind."

"New York," Hermione answered immediately, and for some reason, she knew she was right. "2007, or a little before. I was at a conference here."

The Ancient One's eyes roamed over the skyline. "In the future." It was not a question. 

Hermione's eyes narrowed. She searched her pockets and arm holster for her wand, but she felt nothing. Her wand was not with her. The Ancient One's eyes returned. Hermione nearly took a step back. "What do you want?"

"Nearly three years ago," the Ancient One said, folding her hands into her sleeves delicately, "I felt you come into this world from a universe that was not our own." 

Hermione said nothing. 

"I could not find _where_ you were, but I could feel the foreign energy you brought in with you. The power. This world has not felt its likeness in many centuries, and it drew my eye."

"It was an accident," Hermione said truthfully. "My being here. It was from a strange energy source that was neither man made or by magic."

The Sorceress Supreme studied her. "I know. By what you call the tesseract." 

Hermione nodded and looked between both of her eyes. "And I have been searching for a way back since, but I don't think it's possible to, even if I did manage to find it again."

"What was done cannot be undone," the older woman agreed softly, and Hermione felt the last bit of hope for her world crumble away. "And I cannot explain to you the decisions of the universe, as a wielder of your strength should be dead from such dimensional magic, but I can shed light on the some of the paths emerging."

Hermione looked away, and blinked the tears from her eyes. The Ancient One looked out over the horizon with her. 

"Are you able to see the future?" Hermione asked. 

"No," the other woman answered, "not in the sense you might be thinking, but I can see the options of what could be."

"And why now?" Hermione asked. "Like you said, it's been nearly three years. What makes today the day to know everything?"

The Ancient One placed her arms on the railing of the rooftop, and looked down at the palms of her hands. "This material universe we live in, and your old where you use to, are not all that there is. This universe is only one of an infinite number. Worlds without end. Some benevolent and life-giving, others filled with malice and hunger. Dark places, where powers older even than time may lie ravenous… and waiting," she said. "My place as Sorceress Supreme for this world means that I fight against an infinite multiverse filled with infinite dangers to protect this reality. I am granted powers that show me the best course to protect all of Earth. Some of these dangers are so potent that no matter what I do, it still finds its way to affect our universe. The tesseract and powers like it are such dangers," she looked to Hermione, "And you were born from one of these in this universe. For reasons unknown, you were not immediately destroyed when you passed through not only dimensions, but time itself as well." 

Hermione was silent.

"You asked, why now?" she continued. "And it is because you are at the precipice of change in this reality. You, who should not exist, somehow have the power to alter the threads in the fabric of our timeline. As I have divinned dark paths in the future of Earth, I see you now plucking at the strings."

None of what she said made any sort of sense to Hermione. "Cosmic energy? The multiverse." Hermione's head swam. "I confess, those are terms that i've read in books and in passing research, but I never thought of it more than theoretically."

"Until you traveled by dimensional magic."

Hermione huffed a laugh. "I thought it was more of a cosmic glitch than anything else," she confessed. "But you're telling me it's all real, and it has a purpose for me."

The Ancient One smiled for the first time, and true warmth shone from her eyes. "I tell this to you, to bring you hope child," she said. "You are able to walk a fragile line no other is able to."

Another shiver ran down Hermione's back.

"And life is not kind to those who fight back at Fate," the Ancient One said sadly. "Although I cannot clearly see all of your roads, I do know that one day... some day, we will meet properly when your soul is broken by this world."

The blood left Hermione's face. She took a step back in horror at what that could mean. 

"But it will not be the end for you," the Ancient One continued on, her eyes searing into Hermione. "You have your magic, and with that, the power to change your reality. To change the world. It will be difficult, but you can once more, feel whole."

A cold burst of New York air swept against the pair, but it was not the frigid wind that set goosebumps over her skin. "That feels like a prophecy."

She shook her bald head. "It is not certain. Every path may change."

Hermione let that settle. "Is there anything you can tell me for certain?"

"That this is a dream," The sorceress answered, extending a hand to New York. "And Johann Schmidt must not be allowed to continue to wield the power of the tesseract. He provokes what he does not understand, and it will bring destruction to our world."

Hermione grimaced. "Another cosmic certainty?" 

The Ancient One smiled again and took a step back. "When you are ready to begin your training, you may find me through the Astral Dimension."

Hermione blinked. _Training?_

Before Hermione could ask her anything further, the Ancient One disappeared in a gust of wind, New York fell away into darkness, and Hermione opened her eyes.

* * *

* * *

November 6th, 1943

"... 'why you should wish to leave this beautiful country and go back to the dry, gray place you call Kansas.'"

Hermione's first awareness was a deep, comforting voice amongst the darkness.

"'That is because you have no brains,' answered the girl," it said again, and Hermione began to recognize the male's velvety, gentle timbre. "No matter how dreary and gray our homes are, we people of flesh and blood would rather live there than in any other country, be it ever so beautiful. There is no place like home.'"

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, and felt soft cotton sheets surrounding her lower body. Looking down at herself, pale bandages wrapped around parts of Hermione's arms, and she could feel the pressure of another bandage across her chest, but she did not feel pain. Daylight streamed through a window at the end of the small hospital room, and she blinked several times to focus the blurry world.

"'The Scarecrow sighed.'," she heard him continue, and Hermione slowly turned her face against her hospital pillow.

Steve sat in his military uniform next to her bed with a ratty green covered book between his hands. His outer jacket was discarded carefully over the back of his chair, and his service hat sat on his knee. He was leaned forwards, elbows on his thighs, and his cornflower blue eyes were focused on the text below. 

"'Of course I cannot understand it,' the scarecrow said," he read to her, and she smiled at his choice of book. "'If your heads were stuffed with straw, like mine, you would probably all live in beautiful places, and then Kansas would have no people at all. It is fortunate for Kansas that you -"

Hermione shifted in her bed to turn more fully towards Steve, and the metal on her bed creaked. 

Steve's head snapped up and his eyes widened. "Hermione!" he whispered in a startled breath. Then he was on his feet, and the book snapped closed. 

Hermione frowned. "I was hoping you'd read more." Her voice sounded thin and scratchy.

"You're awake!" Steve exclaimed, and knelt low to her bed. His fingers edged the skin of Hermione's jaw, and then they came under her chin, so that she was looking up to him. He stared down at her intently. Hermione felt fire rise to her cheeks. "How are you feeling?" he asked, and his thumb grazed the other side of her jaw. "Do you need anything?"

"I'm -" Hermione started, and swallowed. Steve's eyes followed her movements. "I'm fine!" she burst out. "I feel okay. No pain."

Steve's other hand cupped the side of her face. "You sure?" 

She cleared her throat. "Water," she said. "I would like water. And my wand."

Relief filled Steve's eyes, and he let go of her to walk to the opposite side of the room where a pitcher and cup stood waiting. She immediately missed his warmth. "Your wand is beneath your pillow," Steve said as he filled a glass and turned back around. Hermione slowly brought a hand behind her head, and felt the familiar edges of her wand. "Howard brought it in this morning for you." He came back to her and she gratefully accepted the cup.

When she had drained the water, she found Steve sitting back down in the chair besides her bed. "What happened?" she asked. 

"Severe concussion, lacerations from the glass, but no lasting damage," Steve reported. 

"Is everyone else okay?" 

"Only you needed immediate medical attention. The doc says you should be okay, but you're not to do anything strenuous for the next day or two. Head wounds can be serious." 

Hermione nodded. "How long have I been here?"

"Just through the night," Steve said. "The only thing you've missed was my meeting with Colonel Phillips and Peggy in the Command Room this mornin. I'm sure you'll get a report on your desk about it. But there's at least five Hydra weapons factories scattered in occupied territory, and Bucky reported that whatever they were building was being shipped out to a top secret Hydra facility somewhere that we don't know about. Peggy's coordinating with MI6 to find its location."

Hermione pulled out her wand, and unwrapped some of her bandages while Steve was talking. She used _Episky_ on every small glass shard wound she could find. "Was there anything else?" she asked.

Steve watched her while she worked and he licked his lips before continuing, "The SSR is focusing on Johann and his factories. They want me to put together a small team to take down every Hydra factory and base we come across. Wipe 'em off the map."

Hermione blinked in surprise. "Have you chosen a team?"

He nodded. "I've got some in mind, but we're meeting tonight so I can ask officially."

"Bucky?"

He nodded again. "He's knows. He's agreed to do it once medical clears him." 

Hermione frowned. "How badly was he hurt in that Hydra base?"

Steve sighed. "No one knows. He-" he stopped. "They experimented on him doll. Hurt him. Did things that he won't talk to me about."

She listened to him, silent, overcome with compassion. 

Steve looked to his shining shoes. "You know physically he's in workin order. Eats and drinks like the rest of us," he shook his head. "But sometimes, I see him, and I know he's far away," he admitted. "I don't know how to help him."

Hermione sat straight up in bed and reached over to touch Steve's shoulder. "I think just being there for him is enough right now," she said. 

Steve peered upwards and put his hand on top of hers. A corner of his mouth lifted. "You're probably right. I just wish there was more that I could do."

Before Hermione could say something back, a nurse walked into her room. 

When Hermione was released back into freedom later that afternoon, she asked for Steve to find Colonel Phillips, Peggy, and Howard.

"I know what Johann is using to power his weapons," she told him before he left. He kissed her cheek once, twice - and then took her hands in his. "Have them meet me in my office," Hermione said. "This changes everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes, the Ancient One. I honestly can't wait to hear your theories on this!
> 
> Thanks for reading :)
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Sam Smith - Fire On Fire](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zwMHXgusVzk)


	13. Weapons of War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of your continued support!

* * *

"Ain’t afraid to bare my soul, ain’t afraid to walk on coals  
Hear the thunder when I step, you know where to place your bet"

\- Oh The Larceny, "Can't Stop Me Now"

* * *

* * *

November 5th, 1943

“So you’re telling me,” Howard said with furrowed eyebrows, “that all of Schmidt’s Norse obsession with ‘a higher power’ mumbo-jumbo stuff was _ real _?” His fingers ghosted the crown of his forehead. 

Peggy and Steve stood across from Howard and Colonel Phillips in the otherwise empty office, and Hermione nodded her head slowly.

"Huh. And he’s using your magical _rune _ language from his mumbo-jumbo obsession combined with this _ tesseract _ thing, that's most likely not of this world, to make nearly inexhaustible weapons on a mass scale that no one has ever seen or experienced before?” He looked around the room. “Did I miss anything?”

“No, that's - that about sums it up,” Hermione said. 

“Well- good,” Howard answered, and flopped into a chair. Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose. “Christ.”

“Language,” Steve admonished reflexively. 

Peggy looked to Colonel Phillips. “Knowing this, how do we proceed?” 

Colonel Phillips fingered the wooden table separating his small team with the nail of his thumb. He looked up. “The same as before. Those weapons need to be destroyed now more than ever. At least we know what we’re up against,” he answered. “Captain Rogers will assign a team to wipe out those Hydra bases. Agent Carter will provide assistance in intelligence. Agent Granger,” he paused and looked to Hermione. “Will begin assessing and creating her own weapons and protective measurements for Allied troops. Mr. Stark will work with you on this. Priority: Number One.”

Hermione swallowed.

The Colonel settled the weight of his expectations heavily to her shoulders. “Hydra has a sparkly cube. We have you.”

And what could Hermione say against that? “Yes, Sir,” she answered. 

“Good.” The Colonel stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a bottle of scotch to acquaint myself with before I report in.” 

Hermione and the others saluted Phillips on his way out. 

Before the Colonel made it through the office door, he turned back around. “Oh, and Captain Rogers?” he said, and Steve straightened. “There’s a couple of men that just made it to base that the higher-ups want you to meet.”

Steve grimaced. “Is it to accept some sort of award from them, Colonel?”

Hermione held back a smile. Steve had been issued to receive a medal from the Senator a few days ago for his work with the Hydra camp, and Steve hadn’t showed up. Completely out of the Senator’s grip with Steve now solely with the SSR, the senator couldn’t do anything about it. Hermione found the entire situation brilliant. 

Colonel Phillips seemed to think so too, and grinned. “No, Captain. They want you to consider adding these two men in your new team. Not forcing you to, but heavily suggesting.”

Steve tried hard not to frown. “Can I ask why they’re interested in assigning someone, Sir?”

“You’ll figure it out,” Phillips answered easily. “Word of advice however, take a look at how far back these men's history runs with the military before you make your decision. Some individuals might find working with them to be - difficult.”

Steve did frown at this, and Hermione mirrored the action. “Where will I find them?” Steve asked. “And their names, Sir?” 

“They’re brothers. Both staying before assignment at the hotel next to Whip and Fiddle, a bar in London. You’ll be looking for a Victor Creed and Logan Howlett.”

Peggy and Hermione exchanged a glance, they'd never heard of them from the Colonel before or read their files.

Steve nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

* * *

November 6th, 1943 

Hermione smoothed the edges of the lilac material against her ribs. The draped evening dress she wore cinched tight at her waist, and it fell in elegant folds to the bottom of her stocking covered knees. The top of her dress wrapped from one side overlapping the other, leaving a considerable gap of cleavage available to the brisk London air. 

She had pinned her glory rolls to the top of her head so that the rest of her curls fell off one shoulder, leaving her neck, just as vulnerable as her chest, to the winter wind. Hermione rubbed her red painted lips together and followed after Peggy, an absolute vision in the form fitting red dress she had chosen for the occasion, down the cobbled street. 

Music wafted from the window cracks on the outside of the bar, and Hermione could smell the heavy pungent odor of cigarette smoke carrying from its' cracked windows. Live piano music, loud cheers, and off key singing got louder as the pair of women arrived at the door to the busy bar. 

Peggy led through the entrance first, and Hermione shivered at the feverish air that enveloped her when she followed. Eyes of both soldiers, and other patrons, immediately fell on the two women as they made their way forwards, and raunchy songs sung with gusto in time with the piano players fell silent. Their eyes felt like live wires under Hermione’s skin, and a flush built over her cheeks and down her chest. 

She passed a group of staring soldiers, and saw her old friend, Pinky, surrounded by several other men. When his eyes trailed upwards to her gaze, he winked. 

Hermione held back her own returning grin, and Pinky nodded to an antechamber just behind their group of chairs.

Peggy had gone forwards to the bartender at the side, but Hermione gripped the edge of her red sleeve, and gently pulled the woman to follow after her. Silence followed their retreat, and Hermione felt the heat of numerous eyes track her as she stepped into the adjoining room. 

Steve and Bucky were standing up from their wicker chairs at a tall table, leaving several drinks laid out between them, as Peggy and Hermione entered. Steve’s eyes widened, and immediately glued to Hermione. 

She felt the heat roar up in her ears and down her sides. “Captain,” she greeted, and was surprised at the smooth level of her voice. 

Bucky’s eyebrows were high on his head, and she flashed him a small smile as both women came to a stop before the soldiers. 

“Agent Granger,” Steve answered, his eyes roving over the panes of her face.

Then silence.

“Bucky,” Bucky said after a moment, introducing himself to Peggy. 

“Agent Carter,” she answered easily, and Hermione blushed. She flashed a guilty look at her friends. 

Peggy ignored it and turned to Steve. “Howard developed some new equipment for you to try,” she stated. “Tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock?”

Steve nodded to her, and smiled politely. “Sounds good.”

The piano started up from further in the bar again, and voices began to sing loudly with the music. Hermione grinned at the group of men she assumed was Steve’s chosen soldiers just outside the room as they joined in.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty,” she smiled.

Bucky glanced back at his team and smiled. “Aw come on doll, I know you like this song. We danced to it at Coney Island,” he winked at her. 

Hermione laughed, and scanned her eyes over the new faces. “What about the Creed and Howlett brothers?” she asked, turning back to Steve. “Are they among the men?”

Steve shook his head. “I haven’t run into them yet. Every man I wanted to ask already said yes to the team. They’re all that’s left.”

“Well then," a chocolate baritone voice spoke from further down the bar. "I guess now’s as good a time as any."

Heads turned, and Hermione saw two men step away from a tall table and make their way towards her.

If the men were brothers, they looked nothing alike. One was tall, taller than even Steve at about 6'6 in American feet, with dark blonde hair and amber colored eyes that settled deep into his face. Thick blonde mutton chops covered the planes of his cheeks, but his squared chin was left bare; a look Hermione was certain was against-regulation. The other brother was much shorter. Shorter even than Hermione by about an inch. He had dark midnight colored hair, made even darker from the shadows of the bar, with brilliant sapphire colored eyes that stood out behind his eyebrows. The only things the brothers seemed to share were the mutton chop sideburns down their faces, the unholy amount of muscle that looked stacked atop them, and the cold glint of _other_ in their eyes that immediately set Hermione's inner radar off the charts. Something was _different_ about them, but Hermione had no idea what. 

The tallest had spoken, and approached first. 

“Sorry to barge in,” he said and tipped his head down. From the glint in his eye, he wasn't at all. “Ladies,” he added, and Hermione dipped her head in return. “I heard my brother’s and I’s name.”

Hermione very much doubted that, as the bar was picking back up in volume. He would have had to have _very_ impressive hearing if that was the case. She swallowed the urge to rebuke or question him on the statement.

Steve looked between the two men. “You Victor and Logan?” he asked, and extended a hand. 

The tallest accepted the handshake with a firm grasp. “Yessir, that would be us.” He turned to the man at his side. “This here is my younger brother Logan, and I’m Victor," he motioned to the stockier of the brothers first, and them himself. "I heard we were to meet with a Steve Rogers and Co tonight.”

“That first part is me,” Steve said, and let the man’s hand go. He extended it to Logan and they shook. “Beside me is Sergeant Bucky Barnes, previously of the 107th.” He motioned to Peggy. “Agent Peggy Carter of the SSR and liaison with MI6,” he said and continued to Hermione. “And Agent Hermione Granger of the SSR as well.”

Hands were shaken, and Victor pressed his lips to the back of Hermione and Peggy’s hands. Hermione held back a grimace. 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Victor smiled, and Logan nodded silently beside him. “My brother and I were shipped in just this morning from the front of the Maginot Line.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. There was thick fighting in between France and Germany, known as the Maginot Line, and it wasn’t pretty. “Bet you're glad to be away from the fightin' for a minute.” 

Victor clicked his tongue. “Nah,” he said. “Fightin’s in the veins.” He looked to his brother. “Done so much of it now it’s just another day.”

Steve nodded along, his eyes focused on the older of brothers. “You know, they gave me your file. It said the same thing.”

“Is that all it said?” Logan spoke up for the first time, and Victor smiled.

Hermione saw sharp canines poking from the behind his lips. Her eyes flickered between the men, lost at the tension suddenly under the conversation. 

Steve tucked his hands in his pockets. “That’s the only word I’m concerned over.”

Victor’s smile became less predatory like, and he mirrored Steve’s actions, putting his hands in his trouser pockets. “Good to know, as I hear we're going hunting for some Kraut together."

Steve motioned to the team assembled in the other room. "The rest of the men are in there, I'll introduce you. We leave next week."

* * *

December 9th, 1943

They did not eliminate their first Hydra base until over a month later.

Hermione did not go on missions out of base with Steve and his newly dubbed 'Howling Commandos', as she was primarily in the lab with Howard from sun up to late into the night. She applied herself to Colonel Phillips orders, and fully devoted her previous magical degrees to the military's never ending problems. 

Several Allied Bases were now untraceable and unplottable against Hydra's spies.

Thousands of Allied soldiers packs held extension and feather weight charms. 

Several military companies had trial portkeys that they could use for emergencies to an undisclosed base. 

Hermione was in the process of recreating Fred and George's Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, and several new products that could help medics on the field, including _Cauterizatus _Bandages. It was a handy charm she had stumbled across in Italy after Voldemort's war that was applied to a length of cloth. When the cloth was exposed to blood, usually wrapped around an appendage, the cloth would cauterize the wound from the outside in. A nasty piece of work for the wearer, but potentially, it could save lives.

Hermione also invented charmed needles under what she called the 'Clean Stitch Charm', _Consuo Integer_, to help medics apply magically disinfected needles and thread against an open wound that would automatically sew them together. She didn't have a full understanding of what spells or methods Magical Healers used in her old world, but she did the best she could off her spell crafting knowledge from the Unspeakables. 

Hermione had also fiddled with sewing runes into boots or army jackets with the Imperturbable Charm and the '_Naudiz' _ rune symbol for willpower, survival, and necessity. It effectively made army outerwear nearly bullet or explosion proof, inspired by the 'shield hats' that Fred and George had sold during Voldemort's war. 

The drawbacks to these more intricate pieces of magical defense was that it took time to create, and they didn't last long - the spell would stop the wearer from getting shot by a maximum amount of five bullets, or one bad explosion, before the spell wore off completely as the user did not hold a magical core of their own to sustain the magical depletion afterwards. To renew the spell, Hermione would have to pick the stitches out and reapply the spell into the material. Although handy, and a great idea to help people stop getting shot, it was not efficient in the millions of soldiers that needed her help. 

Howard, on the other hand, was elbow deep in testing the tesseract energy from the Hydra weapons. He spoke with Hermione nearly every evening, saying that he believed it to be the key to limitless, renewable, clean energy. Primary testing even suggested that a brand new element structure could eventually be created from it, and that _theoretically_ it would partially replicate the energy of the tesseract. But the technology for this was decades in the future -no where near what Howard could do now. He often joked that his future children would have to rediscover the new element, and name if after the family. 

So then in between his research of the tesseract, Howard focused on trying to develop magical weapons. And while Hermione understood the necessity of those weapons for the War, she was loath to create something so fundamentally destructive against the muggles.

Hermione, at her very core, did not want to cause further destruction to a war torn world.

Howard and Hermione were going back and forth on the application of unlimited ammunition on Allied weapons, but without the tesseract, when Steve found them after his mission.

Hermione heard the lab door open, the sound of booted feet approach, but she did not turn from her chalkboard. "As I've said Howard," she continued with their argument while writing an arithmetic equation on the board for one of her projects. "We can't provide the same magical _fix-all_ that Hydra has on their weapons because _I can't charm that many _guns, or bullets, or magazines, or crossbows, or _whatever_ your going to say next. The tesseract was what powered the weapons, I can't replicate something with that kind of energy." She turned on her heel and pointed the chalk at the intruder in her labs. "And if you're here to report for Colonel-"

Her eyes widened, and the chalk dropped from her fingers. "Steve!" she exclaimed. 

Steve looked like he had just gotten off the motorcycle back from his mission. His hair was windswept, dirt covered the sides of his jaw, his uniform was splattered with mud and something darker that Hermione didn't take a closer look at, and his helmet was tucked under one leather coated arm. He must have just come back from completing their first Hydra base mission, and the uniform suggest that it hadn't been easy.

Steve saluted her after a quick look at Howard. "Agent Granger," he said neutrally. 

Hermione withheld the urge to jump forwards and wrap her arms around him. She settled for quickly inspecting him for any obvious injuries, before folding her hands behind her back.

Howard leaned against the blackboard beside her.

"Captain Rogers," she replied. "I hadn't heard that you'd returned."

The open lab door filled with another pair of broad shoulders, and the dark hair of Bucky Barnes filled the space behind Steve. "That's only cause we just got back, doll," he said, and Hermione's lips pulled upwards at the other man. Bucky stuck a thumb at his oldest friend. "Punk jumped right off his ride when we got in, straight to you. No debrief, no nothin." 

Steve licked his lower lip and didn't meet Hermione's widening eyes. 

"Colonel's gonna have his ass when he finds-"

"Language, Buck," Steve interrupted. 

Bucky rolled his eyes. "I don't remember the serum giving you such a big stick up your-"

"_Bucky_."

The shorter man put his hands in the air. "Alright. Alright." He gave Hermione a wink. "Don't say I didn't I didn't warn ya when he digs his teeth in, yea?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and turned back to the equation on the board next to her. "Gentlemen, as happy as I am to see you back in one piece, Bucky is right. You should be returning to Colonel Phillips for debrief. He will want to know how the first mission went and what our next steps are."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," Bucky shot off a lazy salute, and Howard laughed beside her at the board. 

Steve didn't move towards the door, like Bucky did, and it made Hermione look up. He was staring at a spot behind her head like he was deep in thought about something.

Hermione frowned.

Perhaps the mission had emotionally affected Steve more than he was letting on? It _was_ his first time leading a group of soldiers. Perhaps he was in some sort of emotional shock? "Steve?" she said carefully, bypassing his title.

He blinked, and his eyes snapped back to her. Whatever he'd been thinking about still clearly laid heavily over his thoughts, and a flash of worry crossed his eyes. 

In the back of Hermione's mind, she wondered when she had begun to read Steve so well.

"Hermione-" Steve said. "You should be there for the debrief. It's got to do with you as well."

Hermione's eyebrows came together. "With me?"

Bruck frowned at the door, and Steve nodded. "Logan interrogated an officer in the building before we left, and he'd mentioned you. Specifically."

Hermione swallowed. Fear rose in her chest like bugs crawling underneath her skin to her heart. _Johann. _"I'll - Howard, I'll be right-"

"I'll come too," Howard interrupted, and placed a hand on the small of Hermione's back.

Steve's eyes zeroed in at the touch.

Howard continued, "I'm one of the only people here that knows everything else about you. If Hydra's calling you out autonomously, we'll need all hands in."

Hermione barely felt Howard guide her towards the door, and Steve follow after them down the hallways. Her mind was already move forwards, deducing from what she knew and could guess at, and creating hypotheses. 

When they came to a seperate office with Colonel Phillips and Peggy, Steve stood next to Hermione's side where Howard had been, pushing the other man behind to Steve's opposite side. Logan and Victor Howlett were present as well, but the rest of the team was absent. 

"Captain Rogers, your men tell me that you went to Agent Granger before debrief," Colonel Phillips greeted them coldly. "Now while I don't know what they taught you stateside in basic training, I _do know_ that the SSR is held to a higher standard and basic procedures will always be followed here. Wandering off for some _alone time_ is not acceptable. Do I make myself clear?" His eyes flickered to Hermione, his tone making it clear what he thought Steve had been up to.

Hermione flushed.

"Yes, Sir. I-"

"The same thing goes for you too Sergeant Barnes," Colonel Phillips cut in.

Bucky nodded sharply back at Hermione's other side, but said nothing.

The Colonel put his hands behind his back. "And while I don't know what the _three_ of you were doing th-"

"Colonel!" Hermione snapped, her blush going all the way down to her toes. Eyes widened at her tone, but hot anger was flushed through her chest. The _arrogance_ of his statement. "Your point has been _made_," she said icily. 

Steve stepped forwards, shielding a part of Hermione away, as the Colonel's eyes narrowed further. "Sir, I reported to Agent Granger first because she's part of the report."

The Colonel held back whatever retort he was going to say next.

Steve nodded to the stockier man between the strange brothers.

Logan Howlett was as dirty as Steve when he stepped forwards, his hair windswept and tangled with mud that was also embedded in the panes of his discoloured uniform that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in weeks. A thick cigar hung from the corner of his mouth as he spoke. "We caught a Kraut on the run before we detonated the walls," he reported between drags of smoke. "High up. Officer of some kind. He didn't take well to being captured with his friends until he heard Pinky chatting. He said your name," he tilted his chin at Hermione. "Then he said '_Zeitreisende_' like it meant something to him. Which, from the small German I've picked up, means-"

"Time traveler," Hermione answered for him, her voice soft. She'd should have known. Johan had spread her existence to his men. They knew about her. She should have _known_.

Victor crossed his arms over his chest. Logan mirrored his movement and nodded once. "Kraut got excited about it. Said, '_time was coming for their weapon. Jewel of Hydra, _or something like it. And it was created for their _Zeitreisende_, for you." He looked Hermione over closely, like he'd never seen her before. "Didn't know he was talking about the five foot nothin dame we'd seen earlier, and i'd like to know why he's calling you a _time traveler_."

"That's need to know Howlett," Colonel Phillips answered instead. "And right now, neither of you need to know." He traded looks with the brothers. "Don't ask again."

Victor's eyes narrowed. "If she's one of us, that's 'need to know'," he argued. 

_Us?_ Hermione thought.

"She's not," Steve stated. 

Victor turned his eyes to the shorter soldier. "Now I'd hate to think you're lying to me, Captain, just because you're a little hot under the collar for the dame."

Steve stared the man down, and a violent tension filled the air. "_I'm_ not. And she's not what you think she is. Schmidt's just crazy."

Hermione was lost. "Hold on," she said, looking between the two soldiers. "What am I _not_? I feel as if we're having two separate conversations, and I'm not sure which I should be listening to."

Victor and Logan exchanged a look. They must have had some secret language known only between the flicks of their eyebrows, because after a few silent moments of silence, Victor rolled his eyes and stepped away. The tension drained from his powerful shoulders, and then the room. 

Logan, the soft spoken and shorter of the brothers, was the one to answer her. "What do you know about people with special abilities, _p__owers_, Agent Granger?"

Things clicked into place. Pinky's conversation with her about the late soldier, McDaniels, from her trek around Italy, filled her mind. Observations and details in previous conversations helped close the remaining gaps. They both had _powers_. That's why the military wanted them on Steve's team to take out Hydra. They were special, like Steve.

Logan began to explain about he and his brother's past. How the step brothers were born with certain powers at birth, that then had revealed themselves under intense stress as they got older. They weren't human. Not entirely. They could do things that other humans could only dream of, and they did it _without_ magic. They could lift a car over their head. And heal from a dozen bullet wounds in a short amount of time. They were immune to poison. They both could grow sort-of _claw_ things from their hands, just at different positions. They lived for a long time. Over a hundred years in fact, as Logan was born 1832, and Victor in 1828.

Hermione began to learn that they were a different breed of human, and it was absolutely _fascinating_. 

The parallels of Hermione's own difference with regular humans and what people like Logan and Victor could do was similar, but also completely opposite. If one was to take blood from Hermione and look at it under a microscope, there wouldn't be a difference from other humans. However, if one was to try the same thing with Logan and Victor, the same might not be said. There could be something _fundamentally_ different with them to allow such a physical difference in the human body. Something in the DNA perhaps? 

"And how many people are affected like this?" Hermione asked, after Logan's explanation. 

Only Howard reacted with wonder and amazement like Hermione at the new discovery. The Colonel and Peggy didn't look surprised, and Steve was nodding along during the shorter man's story. Hermione _needed_ to take a look at the brother's file. 

"Only met a couple handful of people in the last hundred years," Logan answered, looking her in the eye. "Not many want others to know. Some live remotely enough where they'll never be found. It's hard to tell."

Hermione shook her head. "That's still amazing.The thought of those people being _more_-" Hermione shook her head. "I mean the possibilities of what that could mean are infinite, it's absolutely amazing." If there were limitless ideas of the types of powers in _Hermione's_ own imagination, the physical reality of that could be was so much more. 

People in this dimension could be _anything._

Magic, like Hermione and the Ancient One and her followers. Part beast, or at the very least, sharing animalistic qualities like Logan and Victor. Elemental characteristics, like _The Torch_ back in the 30's. Steve's own incredible transformation from his frail body to now. The things this world had shown Hermione destroyed her standards of normal, and she had worked with _experimental magic_ every day before this. 

Victor grimaced. "So then, you're not one of us i'm guessin'?"

Hermione shook her head. "No. Well-" Hermione's head tipped to the side. "I was born the way that I am, but I don't think that it's the same as what you are."

"Sounds like denial kid," Logan said gruffly, crossing his arms over his chest. "Which, if that's how to want to get on in life-"

"It's not that," Hermione hurried to explain. "I'm not ashamed of what I can do, or what that makes me. It's just-" She turned to the Colonel with a silent question. 

The Colonel sighed and nodded. "Might as well. They won't be telling anyone."

And so the number of people that knew Hermione's secrets grew.

She explained where she was from, what she grew up to be, elements of her old world, and then how she ended up nearly seventy years in the past and in a different dimension to boot. When she was done catching the brother's up on the past three years of Hermione's life, she shrugged slightly. "And that's how Johann knows about me. About where I'm from."

"So he knows you're from the future, but not from a different world. And he doesn't know that you're a-" Logan said.

"A witch," Victor finished, and shook his head. "An actual witch, from a different world. Jesus Christ Rogers, you know how to pick 'em."

"Hey," Steve snapped, eyes burning at the taller soldier. Anger, the kind that Hermione had never heard before from Steve, laced his voice. "Language, Creed."

Victor didn't even blink at the tone. Clearly their tension wasn't new.

"I think we're all forgetting the most important part here," Howard volunteered evenly. "Hydra's got a weapon. A new weapon that they want to use specifically against Hermione."

"It's not just that," Logan said back gruffly. "He _wants_ her. That's what that officer said."

"I can protect myself," Hermione argued immediately. She was not some damsel from their 40's film. "I _have_ already lived through one war. I know how to keep my head down, and I barely ever even leave base to begin with. He wouldn't have the chance!"

"And when he finds out what you can do?" Victor demanded. "When Hydra gets word that a _special someone_ can do what no one else has ever heard of, he going to think of you. And if he already knows you've got knowledge of the future, you'll be enemy Number One, occupied territories and Allies be damned."

"I don't like your tone now," Bucky snapped, taking a step forwards by Howard's side. Anger glinted dangerously from his eyes. 

"Don't start. She'll bring half of Hydra if they find her!"

"If! If they find her, which they won't-"

"Don't be such a _yuck_," Victor snapped back, his anger seemed to fill the room. "Schmidt wants her bad _now._ What do you think he's gonna do when he finds out what she's capable of? Huh?" His eyes scanned the room. "What are we gonna do when he uses _Hydra's gem_ against her, and she turns that wand on us?"

Several voices broke out at once.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You got-" Bucky started

"Stand down Creed. You got no idea what-" Steve began

"That's easy, they're never gonna find-" Howard said.

Hermione was lost again. _Turn my wand on - _"Hold on!" Hermione shouted, and the voices cut off. "I thought Johann had a _weapon_ that he wanted to us against me?"

"It is a weapon," Steve said softly to her, but his eyes were focused on Victor. "But it's not to kill you."

Fear crept up her spine.

Victor snorted. Colonel Phillips head snapped to the older soldier, and he only laughed at the narrowed eyes of Steve, Bucky, and Howard. 

"No, Agent Granger," he chuckled darkly. "He doesn't want to kill you. He wants to control you."

"That's what it does," Logan explained. "That kraut said that it's supposed to be able to _make you_ do anything he says."

Hermione's mind froze for a moment. How? Was it some sort of imperius curse attached to an object, like a crown, or shackles? Did he find a way to actually cast spells? Was that even possible? The cube wasn't magic, it was _energy. _

"That's - he can't- I mean, that's not possible-"

Victor snorted again. "Yeah well, welcome to Hydra."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I gave Logan (Wolverine) an extra two inches of height as in the comics he's 5'3. Now he's 5'5, an inch shorter than Hermione.  
* Howard finds the theoretical element that will eventually save Tony's life from palladium poisoning within the tesseract's energy at this point in time. He'll be holding onto this for decades, waiting for the technology to catch up with his brain (that eventually Tony created and finished for him in the movies).  
* In the comics Wolverine is born sometime in 1882-1885 era, but the movies had him born in 1832, allowing him to fight in the American Civil War in 1861. I am more inclined to agree with that longer time period as it just works better for his character here.
> 
> * Yuck - a foolish or stupid person
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [Oh The Larceny - Can't Stop Me Now ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SepuzKLrnUA)


	14. "Things and Stuff"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter completely ran away from me. I had PLOT to lay down. Distress to be had. 
> 
> But no. My fingers decided otherwise.
> 
> So, please enjoy the (somewhat shorter) chapter of fluff filled reading.
> 
> [WARNING: For those uncomfortable with mildly sexual scenes, skip the later half of this chapter]

* * *

"Crowded town, silent bed  
Pick a place to rest your head  
Give me a minute to hold my girl  
Give me a minute to hold my girl"

\- George Ezra, "Hold My Girl"

* * *

* * *

Christmas was a somber affair, as Hermione was not allowed to leave Base. After the Hydra report of Johann's desire to capture her, Hermione was given a very strict _ no leave _ order from Colonel Phillips. She was confined to either her cabin, or the underground bunker that was known as her Office until further notice. 

She was also assigned two guards in case of Hydra spies (or as the Colonel had warned her, if Hermione disobeyed his direct orders) that followed her throughout her days: Private First Class Joseph Cain from Nevada during the evenings, and Army Specialist Jack Fury from New York during the days. Both American men followed her routined days like a shadow, hands near to their weapons at all times. Neither spoke about anything close to personal information when Hermione prodded, and they didn’t answer when she bounced ideas from her research off of them either. They made for poor conversationalists. 

As time passed and her research continued, Steve was called away on dangerous missions that kept him gone to the unknown for weeks at a time. Hermione gave him a charmed compact a few days before he left, much like Harry and Sirius's two way mirror from her school time, but it was destroyed in a skirmish early on in the mission by a tesseract fueled gun. With no easy way to communicate to Steve outside of her confines, and condemned to a life away from sunshine and sanity for her _ safety _, Hermione began to feel suffocated in the concrete remains of her life.

So Christmas passed with the quiet exchange of small gifts between Hermione and Howard as Peggy was shipped back to England for an MI6 update, and they raised glasses for the people that had been destroyed by the arrogance of an ideal, for Abraham and his forgotten family, and for themselves; to hope for a future that seemed murky in their blood drenched trenches and hospital tents.

New Years was spent decoding reports from Washington and working on her projects, and by the time Steve got back, they had not seen or heard from each other in weeks. He had left for the Hydra base the day before Christmas Eve, and he did not return until the 12th of the New Year. 

While the mission had been completed and the factory destroyed, the information gathered had been unforgettable. Remains of human experimentation had been found in some of the laboratories, and Logan had passed on that it wasn't just men that had been left strapped to metal tables as the Hydra goons fled. And, even more worryingly, it hadn't just been adults either.

So when Steve returned, he was tired, bruised, frustrated, and disgusted. Not even Hermione could make the soldier unclench his fists the first night back. Bucky either. They carried a bitterness and anger in the set of their shoulders that she had never seen before. A dullness in their eyes whenever Hydra’s name was said, and a rage at the loss of life from decoded telegraphs.

She had no idea how to fix it. She gave both men their space, unused to the anger in Steve’s eyes, and unfamiliar with the knowledge on how she could help, but she felt that instead of closing the gap between her - _ lover, boyfriend, suitor _ \- their distance only grew. Steve coming back to base and back home to _ her_, only meant that the corpse of the man who used to be _ hers _was lost somewhere in the dismantled metal fortresses of Hydra.

All the while, Hermione was beginning to understand that she was hitting a roadblock in her many levels of research for the tesseract. Some of the tests she needed for additional magical applications was impossible to _ do _ because technology and authors of information she needed had not been invented, or _ born _yet. She was struggling to fully remember the scientific discoveries of her own past, while not wanting to 'invent' it for herself that would gain recognition after the War.

For Merline sake, the _ microwave _ hadn't even been invented yet.

J. Roy Blayney still hadn't concluded that fluoride reduces cavities in his initial studies, so fluoride based toothpaste hadn’t been invented yet.

There were still only 82 out of the _ 118 elements _currently discovered in Hermione's 1940's periodic table. 

By the beginning of the New Year, Hermione was frustrated, impotent, angry, and discouraged.

* * *

January 15th 1944 

Hermione dropped the stack of papers covered in Rune equations for basic spellcrafting down onto her office desk. She brought shaking hands into curled fists to the top of the wood, and breathed in deep, burying the urge to scream in frustration. 

_ How long had she been at this? _ Hermione opened her eyes to the fluorescent lights in her office, and her stomach flipped over. _ When was the last time she’d eaten anything? Merlin, what time was it? _

"Long night?" Steve's voice came from her office door. 

Hermione hadn't heard it open. Her irritation swept away as she turned, and she found her soldier leaning against the doorway, the shadow of Private First Class Joseph Cain lingering outside. Stress melted from her shoulders, and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. "I didn't realize you'd be back from the Colonel's office so early."

Steve stepped in, and the door closed behind him. He walked over to her in a slow gait, enhanced eyes taking in every rumple in Hermione's sorry form. "Meeting's been over since nineteen hundred, Hermione. It's nearly midnight." 

She dropped her gaze back to the desk. _ Shit. _"Oh," she answered. "Is it?"

Steve's heat radiated from beside Hermione. He reached out and lifted the tip of her chin upwards, blue eyes meeting her brown. "I'm worried for ya, doll," he said softly, and chills raced up her back. "You're not sleepin', you're not eatin' ... Howard can barely get you out of the office most nights." His thumb traced the side of her jaw. "You look -" he trailed and furrowed his eyebrows.

Hermione's soft feelings flew out of her chest like she'd been blasted with a buckshot rifle, leaving pellets of bitterness and venom in its place. 

Years worth of memories from a Hogwarts dormitory shared with caustic comments shoved forwards in her memory past her exhaustion. _ Bucktooth. Frizzy. Know-it-all. _ Steve, _ perfect _ looking Steve, was finally seeing what she was. A dishevelled _ mess _, catastrophe of a woman, who, recently compared to anyone else in his life, wouldn't be looked at twice next to him. 

She _ 'looked' _ like - like she hadn’t slept in a week. Like she wasn’t eating as much as she should. Like her beaten brain was expressing itself to the outside. Like she was dying from the inside out. 

She ‘_looked’ _ like - "What?" Hermione bit out, her teeth clenching. "I _ look _ like what, Steven?" 

An expression crossed his face faster than Hermione could catch. Something _ more _ filled his eyes and he stepped closer, taking her face in between the expanse of his hands. "You don't _ look _ at me anymore, Hermione," he said, and swallowed. 

Her anger froze. 

Every interaction they'd had in past weeks had been around other people: while the Commandos were gearing up to go, while Hermione was in the middle of her projects, while the Colonel or Peggy presented mission intel. They hadn't been _ together_, alone, since ... well, since the hospital visit in November, after Hermione had been in the tesseract energy explosion from Howards research office. 

Conjoined with Hermione’s decision to give him space after his return, she realized with a falling stomach, they hadn't properly seen each other in _ months. _ "I-" Hermione started, her anger leaving an ashamed aftertaste in her mouth. 

Steve's thumbs brushed her cheek bones back towards her ears in soft caresses. "I know I haven't been to your Lab much," he interrupted. "- or was right in the mind after the last mission to be much more to you than a rock, but I still -" he stopped and swallowed again, and Hermione faintly wondered if he was going to say _ love_. "I still - I miss you," he admitted.

Heat passed through Hermione like a fire. She felt like her chest would crack, and the weight of several months tumbled off her shoulders. "Steve, I'm -"

He shook his head. "And I'm sorry if I ever gave you the impression that I wasn't interested anymore, or too busy. Or like I was lookin for a way to break it to you - God knows that I haven’t stuck around long enough to get in a good -"

"I know, Steve," Hermione said, stopping him. She held the wrists of his hands that held her face, keeping him close. "And I'm sorry I snapped at you," she answered. "I'm sorry I haven't been there for you as well, with the missions, with your new team, or with what you saw down up there with Hydra.” She shook her head minutely in his hands as he stiffened. “I’ve just been so ... _ fixated _ on the tesseract, and Johann’s plans, and trying to remember _ everything _ -” She lowered her eyes. “I just - at the end of the day, I want to save lives too.”

He let out a rough laugh. “Doll,” Steve breathed, and pulled her forwards. Hermione’s cheek hit the broad stretch of his chest, and his arms folded around her, caccooning her close. “You don’t have to apologize to me for _ that _,” he said into her ear compassionately. “I know that feeling better than anybody. To try and help with all the chips stacked against you. I just - I don’t want you to kill yourself over it either, as hypocritical as that sounds.” 

Relief swept over her, fierce and soothing, and Hermione tucked herself further into his warmth. Merlin, she’d been such an idiot. To even think that _ he _ out of everyone wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t recognize that fire - looking back, it was probably one of the stupidest things she’d ever assumed.

He paused. “Although, doll, you _ do _ look-”

Hermione froze. 

Steve released an arm and tipped her chin back up to him. Worried, cornflower colored eyes filled her vision. “You look exhausted.” His fingers brushed the heavy weights under her vision, and Hermione nearly cringed.

Peggy’s lessons of what it meant to be a dignified working woman from years before, remaining unshakable and _ presentable _ even during the worst of times, ran through her head. Hermione knew she looked a mess, and if Peggy could see her now from London, she wouldn’t have put it as nicely as Steve. 

He held her tighter. “You know I’m not one to care about the material things,” he said, and Hermione nodded. She _ did _ know. He’d lived off less than nothing before, and wealth didn’t call to him like it did most powerful men.“You’ve seen me when I was shorter than _ you _ and scrawny with bad eyesight. And, I've always thought you were one of the most handsome women I’ve ever seen.” He paused again and reached behind her head. “I still do. Everyday.” He fingered one of her escaping curls from her updo, and tucked it behind her ear softly. 

Hermione blushed all the way down to her toes and released a breath. Her cheek came back to his chest, and he held her again. She circled his waist with her arms. “I’ve - I’ve really missed you too, Steve. I shouldn’t have avoided you as I did. I am sorry.”

One of his hands held the back of Hermione’s head, down to her neck, and warmth filled her like a balloon. “We ought to get back into writing letters,” he suggested quietly. “Even if we can’t post ‘em. We’ll drop them off to each other every time we get back,” he said. “How does that sound?”

She grinned into his shirt. It sounded wonderful. _ Romantic _ and - her forehead rubbed against the cotton of his shirt. “That sounds like a plan, Captain.”

“Steve,” he whispered back immediately. “When it’s just you and me, Steve. Or _ Steven _ if you’re mad, but-”

Hermione laughed, and exhaustion hit her like a steam train on her next exhale. “Alright, I’ll remember that for next time. Although, I should probably retire for the night, _ Steve_.” She looked up at him. “And you should too. Who knows when you’ll be called out again?”

He released her slowly, like he was reluctant to let her go. 

Hermione held onto his hand, and his fingers engulfed hers. She loved the warmth of his skin, the feeling of home as he held her. She smiled. “Come back to my cabin with me?” she asked, and a blush instantly colored her cheeks as his eyebrows raised. “Not to - _ that, _ of course. But-” she breathed out. “Oh for Merlin’s sake,” she laughed. She was a _ fully grown _ witch. “I just meant - will you read to me again?” 

Steve grinned and tucked his hands into his pockets. “Yeah?”

She blushed. “I liked it last time- when you read to me in the hospital,” she answered. “It was very - nice.”

Steve held back a laugh and tried to look serious. “_Nice? _”

Hermione tucked her chin down. “You could just say no!”

Steve's hands came to her sides, and the pads of fingers rested heavy on her hips. “No, doll,” he chuckled, and the sound went straight through Hermione’s core, “I wanna hear you say it, fully.” 

She looked back up at him, and rested her chin on his chest. 

The fluorescents of her office shone through the neat lines of his hair and the slope of his face, shadowing his eyes. “What do you want from me?” he asked softly. 

“Just you tonight,” she answered, and felt the same heat rise up from earlier. “Your time, with me. Just me.”

He nodded, and brushed a hand over the back of her falling curls. Shivers raced across her spine, and Steve leaned down to whisper at her, “I think I can do that.”

It was Hermione’s turn to grin. “Yes?” she asked, reaching to her toes.

He tipped his head and smiled. “Yeah.”

Then he was pressing down, and Hermione closed her eyes. She needed this, the knowledge that he was there with her, wanting her as she was letting herself feel the same for him.

He pulled her against him, arms wrapped around her waist and clinging to the expanse of her back. He enveloped her in his heat, and his lips fell to hers. A short embrace of soft warmth, his breath fanning out over her skin, the _ want _ in his force drowning her, before he came forwards again. 

He kissed her once, twice, three times, and Hermione pressed herself against him as he slid his hands down up her back and down her sides. 

She responded by entwining her fingers in his hair as he grasped the back of her neck, and then she pulled the short strands down closer as he dug steel fingers through her loosening curls. She maneuvered his face as he kissed her again, to the side so she could breathe, and up so she could taste the roundness of his lips, the bite of his longing. She melted under the building fire of his insistent mouth and the heat of his hands over her clothes. 

Steve pressed her ever closer, and their bodies lined up. Hermione could feel the press of his uniform buckle through her clothes, against her stomach like fire on bare skin, and she gasped. He kissed her harder, teeth nipping and wanting as he claimed her mouth, and Hermione let him lead, opening herself to him. 

Soft permission turned into hot, open mouth, demands on either side; a need that craved to be filled.

She could taste the soap of his toothpaste, and the mint of his past chewing gum. She could smell the pommel of his hair gel, and the dusty gravel of gunpowder and dirt. She could faintly hear the inhale of Steve’s breath with every kiss that he laid into her, and the fevered release as she met his fire with her own. 

It was like every sensation was heightened. She had never known this sort of - _ heat, passion, want _ \- with any other man before, and she wondered if it was because she had never known another man quite like Steve before. She knew who he was. He wasn’t going to look away from her when she had driven herself to exhaustion like Ron had, or her later lovers. He was the kind of man that took hold of a situation he didn’t know, and then learned it _ intimately _ to better the status of a circumstance. She found that - well, she was loving that about him. 

_ Loved - _

Her thoughts disappeared before she could articulate what was forming when Steve’s breathy sigh turned into something deeper. A low moan that went straight to the heat in her panties, and the lust soaking her skin.

She wanted this, despite their time apart and her own insecurity. She missed him. His voice, his laughter, his side eyed sarcasm. Merlin above, she _ wanted _ him.

And Steve wasn’t disappointing. His free hand dragged up her uniform like he’d had the same thought, rough fabric hitching upwards and causing a delicious friction under her chest and thighs.

Hermione released a hitched breath, suddenly only thinking of what his hands would feel like under her uniform. On her skin. Cupping her breast, or holding down her hips. 

She released a whine, completely without thought, and Steve’s hands clamped down at the roots of her hair. The velveteen slide of his tongue, and the shocked shudder of his responding breath mixed with her own. 

“We have to -” Steve said, and kissed her again. 

Hermione touched him, delicate hands brushing the sides of his taut stomach, and Steve broke their kiss. Hermione quivered in his arms, a ‘no’ forming on her kiss bitten lips.

He tipped his head back like he was gasping for air, eyes closed, with his hands still tangled in her strands. His chest expanded and retracted like he’d run a marathon, and she watched the column of his neck as he shuddered and swallowed. 

Hermione followed his example, taking in a deep breath of air, and leaned away from his warmth. 

Steve’s hands remained firm on her waist, and he looked back down. The heat was still there. “I’m sorry,” he started. “I didn’t want-”

To fuck her in her office.

Because that was _ exactly _ where that was going, and Hermione nodded. “No, I - I’d prefer if we made it to an actual bed as well.”

Steve blushed, and Hermione did too. Never mind that she definitely was _ not _ a virgin, and Steve - well that hadn’t had this conversation yet. “Have you,” Hermione started, and Steve stared at her lips. “Have you done this before?”

His eyes came back up, and he sighed lowley. “Yes,” he answered, and Hermione wasn’t sure if it was relief or disappointment that ran through her. 

“When?”

“Right after I turned 18,” he said, and licked his lips. “There was a dame - a woman, Bucky had set me up with for the night from the Lower East Side. About as tall as me, the bookish type, timid, and - quiet.” He shook his head. “It wasn’t ideal, and I didn’t love her, but we both wanted somethin’ that needed taking.” He licked his lips again. “That okay?”

Hermione froze. “Course it is,” she answered instantly. She looked down. “I’m not either, if we’re going to talk about this,” she admitted. “Mine was around the same time. With one of my best childhood friends.”

Steve nodded, and his hands didn’t leave her. “He take care of you?”

Hermione smiled. “He loved me, back then. Or with what he thought was love.”

Steve smiled back. “It was Ron, wasn’t it? Couldn’t have been Harry because he loved - uh, Ginny- right?” 

Hermione nodded. “Yes, I’m surprised you remembered. Ron and I were together for just over a year before we called it off.” She shrugged. “Wanted different things in the end.”

He pulled her closer, their bodies flush against each other once more. “I know I’m being real selfish when I say it, but I’m glad he let you go,” he confessed softly. 

Hermione huffed an easy laugh.

Steve shook his head and held her. “I wanted you since I first saw you at that baseball field - like an oil painting come to life with your jacket and your curls - and then I met you, and - it was so much better,” he recalled. “You were fierce about what you wanted and what you stood for, completely different than any other girl I’d ever met. Generous, even to a little guy from the bad side of Brooklyn, and smart - _ so _ smart. You run rings around me every time you’re talkin numbers, and it gets my head all twisted most times, but I love it,” he said and smiled. 

Hermione didn’t dare even breathe.

“The way your eyes light up when you figure somethin out, or remember somethin. It’s like I can physically see the change in your head when you put somethin together for the first time, and you just -” he shook his head and chuckled. “You light up the room, and people can’t help but stare and fall for you just a little,” he said. “Me included. Bucky. Pinky - more than half the Commandos,” he laughed again. “You ought to hear what they tell me every time we leave.”

Steve changed his voice a little higher to mimic his team and friends. “‘_Better not remind her how out of your league she is pal._’” he said, and Hermione stared. “‘_You don’t come home, and I’ll happily make her a Mrs_.’ ‘_How did she pick you outta all the crowd _?’” he shook his head. 

Hermione was astonished. Surely, he didn’t mean that- they didn’t all _ say _ that. “And what would you say back?” she asked quietly. 

The corner of his mouth lifted. “Just -” he shrugged. “Things and stuff,” he licked his lips and laughed.

She laughed back, and tossed her head to the side. “Really, things and stuff?” she echoed. 

Steve leaned down and kissed her lightly on the forehead, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

Hermione would have melted to the floor right there if she wasn’t biologically incapable of doing so with just his kiss.

His lips hovered over her forehead for a second longer, and the brush of his skin against hers sent a shiver down her spine. “I just said some words we’re not ready for - not just yet.”

Hermione tilted her head back. “We’re not ready for - or _ I’m _ not?”

“A little of both I think,” he answered softly back and smiled.

Hermione didn’t know what that meant, or what to make of it. What _ she _ wasn’t ready for? Between them? He’d been the one to stop them before clothes were left on the floor!

Steve stepped away and grasped her hand. “Come on, it’s late enough outside only your bodyguard should see me walking you to your cabin.”

Her earlier thoughts slipped away. “Will you still read to me?”

“From ‘The Wonderful Wizard of Oz’, like last time?”

“But without me unconscious.”

He grinned. “Isn’t the point of me reading _ supposed _ to put you to sleep?”

Hermione paused. “Well yes, but that’s completely different.”

Steve’s laugh echoed down the nearly empty hallway as he walked her back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trivia:  
Fluoride HAD been added to toothpastes by the 1940s, they actually were first added in the 1890s, but they did not become ADA approved until 1960 after several years worth of clinical tests. (Also, I thought Hermione would DEF know this kind of information as her parents were dentists, and she's a little bit of a know it all.)
> 
> Chapter Song Link: [George Ezra - Hold My Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zb_whk63zdE)
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
~Missmusicluver


	15. Rumor Inside A Rumor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By order of appearance:  
cooking with gas - doing something properly, making good progress  
peanuts - a small amount, not enough; usually referring to money  
flip your wig - lose your temper, lose control  
whistling dixie - wasting your time  
sugar daddy - a wealthy man who supports a woman  
fat head - insulting term for a stupid or foolish person

* * *

"Swear on everything I pray to  
That I won't break your heart  
I'll be there when you get lonely, lonely  
Keep the secrets that you told me, told me  
And your love is all you owe me  
And I won't break your heart" 

\- John Legend, "Conversations in the Dark"

* * *

* * *

January 23rd 1944

The post had come early.

Discarded sheets of Hermione's notes were left hazardously around the room when she tore into the newest letter left on her desk.

Her eyes ran through jumbled characters and meaningless phrases, and she quickly took out a fresh sheet of paper and pen from the closest drawer. Hermione decoded Steve’s letter as fast as she could, eyes flying past individual words before she finished and then marveled at the hurried scratches beneath her ink stained fingertips:

> Dear HG,
> 
> I heard a song the other day from Samuel (Bucky’s gotten into calling him ‘Happy Sam’ after a parachuting accident - I’ll tell you about it when I’m back) Sawyer’s radio here, and it got me thinking about you. It’s one of Sinatra’s, I’m sure you’ve already heard if it, but if not, he said:
> 
> “If they ask me, I could write a book
> 
> About the way you walk and whisper and look
> 
> I could write a preface on how we met
> 
> So the world would never forget, never, never forget
> 
> And the simple secret of the plot
> 
> Is just to tell them that I love you, alot
> 
> Then the world discovers as my book ends
> 
> How to make two lovers of friends"
> 
> As soon as I'd heard his words, it brought me back to our first date. Well, what I'd count and say was our first date. 
> 
> Do you remember New Years in ‘42? It was just a couple of days after I’d given you your music box outside your apartment, nearly frozen to the bone from the Christmas snow storm that had blown in.
> 
> After you found me, you spent your afternoon filling me up with hot tea and drowning me in blankets in front of your kitchen stove, tryin to get me to thaw out and warning me about catching cold from such a stunt. Then, sure as the sunrise, I got sick the very next day because of it. (Stop shaking your head - I can feel your hassle from here.) 
> 
> You came over and made me broth, and you bought the chest rub ointment to clear up the sickness in my lungs. Bucky was out, and I remember thinking to myself lying there as you nursed me back to health,
> 
> ‘This is it. This is when I tell her, I’m over the moon for you. Sick or not, I wanna be the guy that gets to see you everyday and know that your smiles just for me. I don't wanna be just friends anymore, I want to be yours and you mine.'
> 
> But I never did. I think I actually passed out from the medicine before I could do much more than wheeze a couple of breaths (was that your doing?) and when I woke up again, Bucky was back from his double shift, and you were gone. 
> 
> I remember laying there, watching Bucky take your place in doling out the medicine, and itching for a piece of charcoal. Wanting to draw how I saw you, and never forget it. The curl of your lips when you smiled at me. The strands of hair falling out of your pins as you leaned over me. The look on your face when you said my name. 
> 
> Maybe instead of writing a book like Sinatra for how you move me, I thought I'd ought to sketch it instead. 
> 
> Yours,
> 
> SR

Hermione lowered the decoded lines of words, and found a sheet of paper folded behind his letter. It was a drawing. A slightly smeared charcoal piece of Hermione, sitting in front of the decrepit remains of his old apartment window, holding a book. Their book, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. 

He made her look at peace, sitting in the sunshine beyond the cracked glass, and reading the novel with soft hands and folded legs. A gentle smile was on her face as she curled into the sunshine, and the shadows of her eyelashes blended into the delicate shadows of her cheekbones. It was beautiful. _She _ was made to look beautiful, her likeness undeniable in the curls of her hair and the slope of her calves. 

And on the lower right corner, where an artist's signature should be, Steve wrote:

> “So if they ask me,
> 
> I could draw, 
> 
> About the way you walk, and whisper, and look.
> 
> \- Steve”

She fingered the edges of the drawing, emotions falling over each other like a crashing tidal wave.

She blinked tears from her eyes. The careful shades of her charcoaled face smeared to watercolors as she choked on an exhale. She pressed a hand to the violent thumping of her heart, and a heat washed over her skin like an echoing acknowledgment of her mind's first dominant thought.

She loved him. 

That was it. She loved him. 

She'd believed she had already known love only once before, with Ron in her youth, but it had flickered away to friendship as fast as the turning leaves on the trees of that summer. Their infatuation had been for a number of reasons: close proximity, loneliness, unsolved insecurities, and most pressingly, the constant thought of death. They desperately fell into one another because they had thought there would be no other time to do anything more, and at such a young age, that knowledge had been all consuming.

True, they had found happiness, as swift as it all had been, but it was never what Hermione had thought valid love would feel like; what her parents had, what she had read about in books under the cover of darkness in her bed at Hogwarts, or what she had seen in the telly. She loved Ron, she always would, but it was never _enough_; to stop her heart, or pause her ever performing and mechanized mind, to take her breath away, or feel the utter adoration she'd see in others. Ron had never made her feel as if she was the only woman in the word, as if she was truly beautiful, or worth the headache of her academic passion and opinionated nature. 

Steve however, made her feel all of those, and more. 

* * *

February 5th 1944 

> Dear SR, 
> 
> I thought often of you these past few weeks as well, and a few lines have been repeating in my mind that I believe you'll find to your liking:
> 
> I hope you don’t mind,
> 
> I hope you don't mind,
> 
> that I put down in words,
> 
> How wonderful life is,
> 
> Now you’re in the world.
> 
> A shorter stanza than yours, true, but filled with the same intention. I’ll tell you more about it when you’re back, whenever that may be. I hope it’s soon. 
> 
> I cannot tell you how many times I’ve reread our letters, or what I feel everytime I receive a new one. They’re the brightest point in my day, and it often reminds me what we’re fighting for. Why we have to win.
> 
> Of home.
> 
> Do you think Brooklyn will have changed much while we’ve been away? I think on it from time to time, the smell of popcorn at the stadium, or the ice cream shop on Middagh and Hicks Street. I wonder what it’ll be like when we go back. What we’ll do. Have you thought on it much?
> 
> Peggy is always so assured that everything will fall right into place when all of this is over. She insists that as soon as we’ve won, she’ll go on to work with Howard or MI6 in rebuilding both Britain, and then the world. I wish I had her confidence for the future. 
> 
> Thank you for your drawing! I look at it nearly everyday, and it always makes me smile. Maybe instead of a military career, a future as an artist? Perhaps it’s too soon to be thinking of the end of all this, but every passing day reminds me of how quickly our lives changed, and how quickly they can change again; perhaps for the worst.
> 
> Speaking of, I heard Bucky had a close call last week. Is he okay? Please tell him that I've got something for him to try next time he's on base, and that hopefully, if he likes it, we can start making it for other soldiers as well!
> 
> In regards to your last letter, I am looking forwards to Happy Sam Sawyer's parachuting story from you when you're back. I imagine that he's still in one piece, yes? In addition, please tell Pinky to limit himself on his cigarette ration this month, and remind the Beastly Brothers that I haven't forgotten their wager from our last conversation. Please also point out to Jim and Gabe that learning a new language on base or in the wilderness is _not_ so they can chase tail through Europe, will you? 
> 
> Make sure you all eat enough, and don't get shot. Send them all my love, and know that I think of all you every day. 
> 
> You most of all.
> 
> Yours, 
> 
> HG

* * *

Feb 13th 1944

Hermione set down Howard's stack of research papers, and blinked several times at the implication of his newest invention. "Howard, it's brilliant," she said with a shake of her head and a smile. "In my old world, we actually had something similar. We called it a -"

"Pepper Up Potion," Howard finished with an answering smile. He flipped open his research notes again. "Yes, I know. That's uh- well, it's where I got the inspiration from. The military's been breathing down my neck for something new to defeat the Nazi's." He shrugged and sighed. "I though, hell, why not make something so that soldiers never have to sleep? - or, to sleep very little for a long time."

Hermione nodded along hesitantly. "Yes, I could see your thought process on that." Her eyes flickered over Howard's hand writing. "And your math does sound -" Hermione cautiously shrugged, "-reasonable."

Howard winked. "Doesn't it just?" He sat down at the lab desk and clucked as he flipped a fresh page over. "The only thing is- I need some help. I've got a short timeline, and the Big Boys in office are saying that the War waits for no one." He paused and met her eyes. "And it just so happens you're the best brain I've got for miles around and I need to be cookin with gas." 

Hermione swallowed her snort and sat down across from him. "Flattering, Howard."

"It really is my highest form of praise," he smiled back. 

Hermione's eyes scanned his work, and then took a deep sigh. "My plate is full enough already. I don't need another project."

He cocked his head to the side. "Is it really work when it's with me?"

"You and a new weapon sounds like hours of lost sleep."

He sighed. "Well then, how about this: I give you 20 percent of the patent. It'll be a big sell from the military. A nice chunk of change at the end of the day. Eh?" He raised his eyebrows. "That way, you get something more tangible than just my winning personality for your beauty sleep."

Hermione frowned. "Howard-"

He motioned to the documents before him. "And I've already taken care of getting it off the ground. The hard part's done! All you gotta do, is stick with me through it," he insisted. "Proof check, bounce ideas off of - that sort of thing." He put his hand over his heart, and Hermione was silent. "Do I really need to say it, doll? Are you gonna make me say it?"

She snorted, and rolled her eyes. "No, I-"

"Cause I will Hermione. I'll do it right now."

"Howard-"

"It's on the tip of my tongue, I swear it-"

Hermione laughed and shook her head. "You-"

"_Please_," he said with dramatic gusto. "Please, Hermione. Dear, Doll, Light of My Life," he proclaimed. "_Please_."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake -

_"Please -"_

"- alright, yes!" she smiled. 

"Yes?"

"Yes," she agreed with a laugh. "I'll help." Her eyes narrowed. "But for 50 percent."

"F-fif-" Howard choked, and coughed. "50 percent!? Are you_ insane_ woman?" He sat back in his chair. "20 percent is generous! I'm doing the majority of it all!"

"Don't you flip your wig at me!" Hermione scolded back. "I'm going to make it better and do it faster than anymore on this side of the world, and you know it". She gave him a flat stare. "20 percent is peanuts."

Howard looked away and crossed his arms over his chest. "Fine then, _25."_

She raised an eyebrow. "Absolutely not."

"27."

"Howard!"

"Fine!" Howard said once more. "Alright, 40 percent. I'll give you 40 of it all." He leaned his elbows on the table. "For your brain, and for your devious, black hearted, conniving ways." 

Hermione simply smiled and offered her hand. "It's a deal then Mr. Stark."

He muttered something under his breath, and shook her hand. He gathered his documents from the table and stood with a frown. "Tomorrow then?" 

Hermione nodded and then walked him to the door. Jack Fury stood silently outside, and made no motion as Howard stepped out. Hermione leaned against the doorway. "Have you thought of a name for this new product?"

Howard grinned. "I was thinkin something fun, you know? Midnight Oil, maybe."

Hermione echoed the name. "I like it."'

"Well if you approve," he said with a smile. He tipped his hat in her direction before he turned on his heels and left for the night. 

Hermione shook her head after him with a small smile on her lips, and she turned to the only other person around. "Don't ever tell him, but I would have done it for 30 percent."

Naturally, Jack Fury had nothing to say back, and stonily stared at the opposite hallway wall.

* * *

March 8th 1944

"We've done all we can," Hermione warned.

Howard held his head in his hands, bent over the table. "There has to be something else," he repeated. 

Hermione and he were the only ones in Howard's cabin, sitting at the dining table and reviewing nearly a month of their work from Midnight Oil between them. "Sometimes things like this just don't work out and we're whistling dixie," she continued, the crust of another long night weighing down her eyelids.

Howard stood up from the table and put his hands behind his head. His white lab coat lay crumpled over the back end of his seat. "No, this isn't the end of it. What haven't we tried? What are we missing?"

Hermione's hair was frazzled from running her hands through it so often during that day, and her patience was below sea level now that it was late into the night. They had been at this debate for nearly three hours, and she couldn't remember that last time she'd eaten. 

She'd promised Steve that she would do better on that. 

"What are we _missing_?" Howard questioned again, breaking Hermione's thoughts. "What aren't we seeing? There has to be _something_-"

"Time!" Hermione declared, tired of the circling rounds. 

Howard snapped his jaw shut. 

"We're missing _time_," she said. "Midnight Oil is a concoction of unstable elements held together by magic that shouldn't have been combined, and technology that hasn't been perfected. We need more _time_ to get it right."

"We don't have-"

"I know," Hermione interrupted again. "I know that, but what we do have right now is a substance that causes sleep deprivation, anger, hallucinations, and _psychosis_. In a large quantity, it could turn people against each other. Violently. It's not ready for any sort of human experimentation, army general or not." Hermione stood from her seat as well.

Howard did not look much better than Hermione, and the dark shadows under his eyes were in stark contrast beside the small fireplace glow behind him. "It's a month of work, down the drain. Millions of-"

"If the military got their hands on this right now, they would use it against the Germans. Not just the Nazi's. Good people perhaps, and Merlin knows who else," Hermione answered. "Midnight Oil is too dangerous to let them see those kinds of possibilities."

"Lord." Howard's fist hit the dining room wall lightly, and his forehead rested on the painted plaster. "I know." He sighed deeply. "You're right, I know. We'll have to destroy it. All of our work."

"Immediately," she agreed. 

There was a knock on Howard's front door. 

Howard and Hermione froze. 

There was a following knock a few moments later, and Howard jumped into action. "It can't be General McGinnis yet, he's not supposed to be in until tomorrow!"

"Private Cain wouldn't have let someone past him if it wasn't someone we knew," Hermione agreed in a rush. 

Howard hurried and opened the door, just as another knock started to sound. The shadow of a large, familiar man stood outside in the freezing wind. 

Howard stepped aside for the large figure. "Oh thank God. Come on in Rogers. It's freezing as hell out there this time of night. Private Cain, you get in here too."

"Steve?" Hermione immediately questioned, hope rising through her throat. He wasn't due back until the day after tomorrow. 

Cobalt eyes stepped through the front door and landed on Hermione. They evaluated the room in a quick once over, taking in the stacks of documentation and the dying fireplace.

He was wearing his now usual red, white, and blue uniform, but had removed his helmet and red leather gloves at some point, leaving his hands free and his hair shining under the soft lights. Gun powder, dirt, and other dark substances spotted throughout his uniform, but his new shield that Howard had put together for him was nowhere to be found. Hermione briefly worried if it had been lost. His shield was completely made out of the only vibranium the US Army had access to, and was irreplaceable. Hopefully if it was lost, Hydra didn't get their hands on it either. 

Steve came back to her face. "I couldn't find you," he said in a strangely even voice. "I was on my way back from your cabin to tell you I'd returned when I saw Private Cain outside." His eyes flickered over to Howard, who came back from closing the door after Private Cain. 

"It's a little late for a social call don't you think?" Howard said offhandedly, rubbing his hands from the brisk air outside. 

Steve's eyes cut to Howard. "It's _very_ late. Past midnight in fact, and no one knew where she was. Someone mentioned she might be staying here tonight."

Both Howard and Hermione froze.

The implication behind Steve's words floored Hermione. She was a grown woman, a Master in several witchcrafts, a military consultant - but sometimes the culture of her current time period showed it's true colors and it slapped her hard across the face.

Hermione was an young unmarried woman in the home of an powerful and wealthy unmarried man, in the middle of the night, without another person - a chaperone, if she was feeling unkindly, present. Nevermind that she was over a decade past her majority, or that Howard was only a _friend; _that they had been working, and debating all night. From any viewpoint outside, predictably from other soldiers, from Steve's, this was not how a respectable woman acted. How someone who was _attached_ to another like she and Steve were -

Hermione's eyes widened. "We were only researching -," she said in barely a whisper. 

Steve relaxed and took a step closer into her warmth. "I didn't come to accuse you," he assured her, but his eyes lifted to the rest of the room, taking in the mess of their continued work again. "I just -" he said, and looked back down to her, " - I worried is all. Someone said -"

"You shouldn't" Howard hissed, offended on her behalf. "Hermione would never do that. To you - to anyone. She isn't that kind of-"

"I know that," Steve snapped at Howard, "but think, if not for your sake, for hers." 

Hermione swallowed. She knew _exactly_ what it would look like, and how that would reflect on not only her character, but her precarious power within the military. Peggy was right about a lot of things, but most importantly, how a women succeeded when doors were continually slammed in her face because of the sex between her legs. And _this_ was not how it was done. Not if she wanted people to take her seriously.

Howard looked geared to start fighting again, and Hermione held up her hand for peace. Both pairs of eyes flew to her's. "I understand," she told Steve. "It won't happen again. If we're caught up in something in the future and we need to stay late, I'll make sure there is someone else as well."

"Don't apologize!" Howard snapped, uncharacteristically hard. 

Hermione glared at her friend. "I'm not. But Steve is right. People can't think you're some sort of sugar daddy-"

Steve choked.

"- to me. There's been enough gossip in this camp, and I can't afford more if I want to stay on."

"The worst, the _very_ worst, they could do is fire you," Howard argued, and crossed his arms. 

"Or court martial me," Hermione replied. "As you said, we've just lost a month of research and millions of dollars on Midnight Oil, a failed experiment with my name on it. They see that, and then hear about extra _rendezvous _from camp gossip, and who are they going to blame? Not you- their leading weapons manufacturer."

Howard paused. He looked to Steve quickly and then back to Hermione. He shrugged. "So then, I'd hire you back in the next minute." He then laughed. "Hell, I'd even pay you more than Uncle Sam does in five years."

Steve frowned and Hermione rolled her eyes. "Howard - That's not the point."

The inventor sighed, and looked to the floor. He shook his head. "No I know, I just -" he clucked lowly, and met Steve's stare. "Sorry Rogers, this one's on me too, I wouldn't want to embarrass you either. It won't happen again."

Hermione hadn't even entertained the idea on how that kind of gossip would reflect back on Steve; now that most people on base knew that Steve came to see her first thing when he got back, it was known but unsaid that they were in some sort of relationship. If people thought she and Howard were _alone_ while Steve was off fighting -

She shook her head and cleared her thoughts. Better not. "Well, now that that's settled. Would you like to know what we're working on?"

Steve relaxed after Howard's apology, and his eyes flitted to the dining table behind them filled with scribbles of notes and research. He looked back to Hermione, and a soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth. "Always," he said. 

Hermione reached out and held one of Steve's hands. She gently pulled him along after her as they all walked to the dining table. 

"Well, here it is Rogers," Howard said, spreading his arms wide and introducing Steve to the mess around them. "Our month long failure for that fat head McGinnis."

Hermione sighed, still holding Steve's hand.

Steve raised his eyebrows. "Are you talking about Brigadier General John McGinnis?"

Hermione cocked her head. "You know him?"

He nodded. "He was present during testing when the Senator had me doing films."

"Poor you," Howard answered as he started gathering up their papers.

Hermione tried very hard not to roll her eyes. "He's an ally, Howard. Try to remember that."

"Well for _now_," he said back. "I wouldn't trust him as far as I'd throw him."

Steve frowned. "What have you got against him?"

"Alot of stuff. One being that he's nutcase for America," Howard explained. "I've met him, I know him. He's willing to do _anything_ to win."

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, releasing her hand, and glanced at Hermione. "What does that mean?"

Howard opened his mouth to answer, and then remembered the silent military shadow on the wall. "Private Cain," Howard barked, "Put your fingers in your ears and hum a toon under your breath."

Hermione's eyebrows rose as the Private blinked several times before following Howards orders. A low hum filled the room as the Private put his fingers in his ears.

Howard mirrored Steve and crossed his arms over his chest. "You been debriefed on the Black Widow Ops Program?"

Hermione frowned, taken aback. She hadn't, and she knew quite a lot of the undercover American programs at this point. She'd never even heard of it.

Steve apparently hadn't either. "No, never," he answered. "What is it?"

"It's _secret _is what it is, so I wouldn't be surprised. It's almost a rumor inside of a rumor at this point." Howard glanced around the room and swallowed. "Alright, so, let's start at the beginning. Following Russia's catastrophic losses in the First World War, the Tsar fell and the Russian Revolution began, right?" he stated. "It ushered in what we know them as now - the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics, or the Soviet Union. In between that time, millions of children are displaced. Starvation, civil war, illness - the list goes on-"

"Stark -" Steve started, confused at the history lesson.

"Stay with me here, so, the Soviets decided that they needed a different kind of warfare. Right?" he continued. "Something that's not going to cause them to lose the population numbers that they had before. By the way, at this time, we're lookin at an estimation of over six million Russian children on the streets because of the Great War and then their Civil War."

Hermione nodded along. She had already known this dark part of Russia's history.

Steve's eyebrows had pulled down into a frown.

"So - like I said, they're looking to do something discrete, but effective. Naturally, espionage came into being."

"Easy to understand, everyone's got an espionage division these days," Hermione answered. 

Steve nodded in agreement. 

"Yes," the scientist agreed. "- but most countries don't recruit _children_," Howard remarked lowly.

Hermione's breath stopped.

"The Black Widow Program is a secret division built on the back of the Russian Revolution whose objective is to to turn little girls, all under the age of seven, into spies and child soldiers. They take them off the streets, the orphans and leftover trash from the cities, and they teach them how to be deadly. Grow them up into elite weapons and then release them into the world under the Soviet agenda. They call those that actually live through their training, Black Widows."

Child soldiers. Hermione's blood went cold.

"That's -," Steve said under his breath. 

"Exactly," Howard said, shaking his head. "It's crazy - the Soviets - but we're in the middle of another War. We can't be too choosy about who gives us soldiers and supplies."

Hermione's head was shaking again before Howard could finish. "We can't just-"

"We have no choice," Howard reminded them. "Not yet."

Steve grimaced. "And General McGinnis, he's aware of our Allies program?"

Howard raised his eyebrows. "He's more than aware. He's in awe. He wants an army of his own American Widows. Exactly how the Soviets have them set up."

"That's _disgusting_," Hermione spit.

"I'm not disagreeing with you," Howard answered. "But he's a high ranking Army Officer. He has a lot of power, and he wants more. Any kind he can get. So when he sees an opportunity, he strikes."

Steve's arms were crossed firmly over his chest, and his teeth were clenched tightly. "And how, exactly, do you know all this?" Steve asked, looking him hard in the eye.

"I was in the wrong place at the wrong time in DC once," Howard admitted. "They thought I was drunk and passed out, I was really only one of the two."

Steve's eyes narrowed in distaste, but he moved on. "So he's not someone we want to cross just yet," he concluded. "But what does he want from you and Hermione with all of this?" he motioned to Howard's dining room explosion of paperwork.

"Just an unreleased substance," Howard answered. "Still in testing." 

Howard looked to Hermione, and she cringed. She knew how Steve felt about gas weapons, how it reminded him of the grisly death his father died in the first World War. It was well known now that Steve hated the thought of fighting with chemicals instead of fists and bullets. Physical weapons could be dodged or blocked. A gas weapon was sure death. 

She licked her lips. "Our product that we've been working on, the one that I told you about in our letters? We call it Midnight Oil. I couldn't say too much incase our letters were intercepted - but we had a deadline for the General for this gas-"

"You were working on a gas?" Steve's eyes hardened. 

"It was originally supposed to help soldiers - not be a weapon," Hermione explained. 

"It didn't pan out like we'd hoped," Howard agreed. "Instead of a combat drug for our soldiers, capable of keeping its users awake for an extended period of time, Midnight Oil created- lethal side effects."

Steve stared between the two scientists. "What kind of side effects?"

Howard reached behind him and collected sheets of their animal tests. "After contact, subjects began to display symptoms of anger, hallucinations, and sometimes psychosis. Most were driven into a state of mindless rage, blindly attacking anything around them."

"Holy Mackerel," Steve said, reviewing the document. He was pale as he moved through the pages. "This is-"

Hermione spoke up. "We've already decided that it needs to be destroyed. It's far too dangerous."

Relief crossed Steve's face. He switched his gaze between both she and Howard. "And you created this? The both of you?" 

Howard nodded. Hermione took the research back from Steve. "Like I said, it wasn't on purpose. This gas - I know how you feel about-"

Steve's eyes shuttered. "Were you in contact with Midnight Oil at any point?" he cut Hermione off and stood tall. "Have you experienced any of the side effects or been in contact with the hazardous corpses left over?"

Cement walls seemed to erect themselves between herself and Steve, and Hermione quickly shook her head. "No, we were very careful with all of our test subjects."

Howard looked between the couple quickly, and took a step in front of Hermione, shielding her from Steve. "Hey now, none of this was on purpose. It was a miscalculation that couldn't -"

Hermione knew that Howard stepping in was a mistake before Steve's eyes could even narrow.

Steve wasn't a jealous man, Hermione didn't think he had it in him to ever really be so, but he had just gotten back from another long mission, had already had a tough conversation in Howard's cabin after more than a month apart, and now Howard had moved like he had to protect her _from_ Steve after a triggering memory of his late father. Mental math had always been easy for Hermione, and she could tell that the product of this increasing equation was about to get very, very ugly.

She had to deescalate the situation.

Hermione moved forwards and wrapped her arms around Steve's waist. He froze at the touch. She leaned her forehead against the musty material of his uniform, and sighed heavily. The echoes of her breath carried through Private Cain's quiet humming, and Hermione clutched at the back of Steve's jacket. "I'm tired," she said softly. She felt the tension release from Steve's body at her words, and the tentative touch of his hands on her back as he held her. "I've been in this room, staring at these papers for hours." she looked up and propped her chin against his chest. "Walk me back?"

Steve caught her eyes, and let out a deep breath. He glanced to Howard for moment, before he was nodding and letting her go. "We'll see you tomorrow morning, goodnight Stark."

Howard put his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned back on his heels. His mouth was downcast in a worried frown, and his eyes went between Steve and Hermione several times before he cleared his throat and nodded. "Goodnight Captain, Hermione."

"I'll see you after breakfast," she smiled back, and motioned for Private Cain to unplug his ears. "We'll be walking back now."

* * *

Neither Steve, Hermione, or Private Cain said anything as they walked and then arrived at Hermione's small cabin. Private Cain stood at attention at the door as Steve and Hermione passed him and headed inside. Steve closed it behind them silently, and Hermione didn't have the courage to turn around.

She released her coat from her shoulders, and crouched to light the small oil heater at the corner of her living room, large enough to only hold two chairs and an oval coffee table. It was early morning now, probably nearing three o'clock - and the heavy shadows of the claustrophobic room seemed extra shadowed as Hermione stood back up. "I didn't mean to hurt you - just now, with Howard." She wouldn't apologize for her research, her job. But she had never seen Steve react so distinctly to both her and Howards friendship, and her work before.

She heard the faint rustling of Steve's uniform at the door. "You didn't," his low voice came from behind her. "I just -" he paused, and Hermione still couldn't move. "I've been waiting to see your face for weeks. Itching to hear your voice. Driving the others insane, talking about you so much, and I get back, and someone walkin by - patrolling, just says easy-as-you'd-like, that you're with _him._ That you've been there every night since I've been gone-"

Hermione's stomach dropped to her feet. A chill felt as if it were climbing through her mind and freezing her circulatory system. 

"And my heart just stops," Steve admitted. "I feel like I can't breathe right, and the world's spinnin, and I haven't felt like that since before the serum." There was movement again from behind her, and she heard his footsteps as he crossed the floor. "And I'm walking away - and I feel like the rug's been pulled beneath my feet. Like I've been hangin upside down for too long, and I've got the blood rushing back down again- and I don't know." He paused. "Then I see Private Cain outside Howard's door, and it's worse, because all of a sudden it's _true_ and I-"

Hermione whirled around. "No!" she yelled furiously, eyes watering. "I would never- _never-_"

Familiar cobalt eyes met hers, but she had never seen such sadness - heartbreak, reflected from them before. "I know that," he nodded softly. "I can see it." He stepped closer, and Hermione had to look up to keep her eyes on his. He searched her face, eyes stopping at random points, like he was memorizing her, and lifted a hand as if to touch, but then stopped. "Do you want to?

Her mind froze. She couldn't believe her ears. _Did she want to - _what?

"Stark is a powerful man. Smart. Wealthy. Well connected," Steve explained, and Hermione's stomach heaved. "He could give you things that I could only dream of doing, and he'd-"

Her anxiousness turned into rage. "No," Hermione snarled, cutting him off and shaking her head. She grabbed a handful of Steve's uniform and yanked him towards her, uncaring for the stiches in his suit.

Steve was generous with his response, as he took several steps forwards instead of ignoring her attempt of strength, and they stood nearly chest to chest.

Hermione glared up at him and wrapped her free hand around the other side of his jacket, so she was fisting the red, white, and blue material with both hands and pulling him against her. She stared deeply, defiantly, into his eyes so there was no mistaking her words.

"No," she declared, she promised. Her eyebrows fell into a deep V on her forehead. "Don't you ever - _ever_ say that to me again, Steven Grant Rogers," she threatened with searing malice. She was so angry she wasn't sure if was going to scream or cry.

"You-" he tried to defend himself.

"The arrogance. The presumptuousness! How dare you-" she yelled, her eyes watering again.

"I know that-"

"You don't know a damned thing!" she screamed. If she could make herself let go of his jacket, she would pound his chest with the flats of her hands and say it over and over again. She would beat it into him, as that was the only way he seemed to ever understand anything. However, she couldn't wrench herself away.

Steve's own hands came up and covered her fists, his warmth enveloping her skin and pressing them hard against his chest as if he was keeping her tied to him. His eyes were wide. "Hermio-"

"I love you!" she blurted out, and tears fell down her cheeks. 

Steve's lips parted in surprise and his hold on her hands loosened. His head lowered, and Hermione could clearly see the shock across his face. "What?" he whispered.

Hermione let loose the rest of her breath, and her anger dissolved along with it. She paused. Then she stood on her tiptoes, pulling Steve by the jacket down to her. His hands fell around her back, and she pushed herself upwards on him, reaching, as she held his eyes. "I love you," she repeated. "I love you."

Steve opened his mouth, but Hermione barged ahead, and yanked him down further. He went willingly, and his face was then only a breath away. They stared deeply into each other eyes, Hermione noting the ring of darker blue around the outer rim, and she glared back with as much leftover rage as she could. "So don't you _ever_ tell me Howard would be a better fit. I love _you_, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."

Then she kissed him. 

His lips were softer than she'd remembered. They fell open with a brush of her tongue, welcoming her, and his hands fell from her back down to her hips, where he grasped them tightly. Her heart pounded in her chest as her knees got weaker. Her previous anger was gone, she could only focus on how perfect he felt against her mouth, how addictively he invaded all her senses.

She had admitted she loved him. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation.

"Say it again," he told her, pressing his forehead to hers. 

Who was she to deny him, such a simple request? Something she had been saying repeatedly in her mind for weeks. "I love you."

Steve stared at her, as if she held the answers of the world in her eyes, and claimed her mouth again, hungry and intense, until her knees gave in. He pulled her tightly against him, curving his body into hers, and pulled possessively at the wool of her uniform jacket around her waist. The extra layers over her skin felt restricting under his touch, and she itched to shake them off and lay herself bare before him.

He sucked on her lower lip, and she closed her eyes and shuddered. Excited shivers raced down her back. Her breathing came in small pants, and her fingers twisted in the short strands on his silky locks.

There was a moan from the back of his throat, and it resounded through her small room. He moved from her mouth, and kissed down her jaw to the side of her neck. He dug his teeth into her skin between his kisses, and Hermione released a breathy whine. Her whole body tingled. "I love you," she barely whispered through the rising fog in her mind. She felt as if she was flying, racing, high above the clouds like a firebolts trajectory. Normally, that would have terrified her because she had a fear of falling, but with Steve's hands supporting her, warming and securely enveloping her on all sides, only the ecstacy of a breathless climb suffused her mind.

She stopped thinking.

She arched upwards into his hold, breathing heavily and pushed her breasts forwards against his torso. Her chest strained against the cotton of her undershirt and the wool of her service coat. They had been apart too long. She had desperately missed the feel of his hands, and the velvet of his lips. Every touch was a coveted memory, building like a bonfire in her chest.

"Doll-" he groaned. Steve's arms came around her waist, hoisting her up against him. Her feet left the ground, and in one smooth turn, Steve swung them to the living room wall only a step away and then laid her down.

Hermione's back found purchase against the rough plaster of her cabin, and Steve's arms followed swiftly, caging in around her. He lowered her back to her feet, and she tilted her head back. Wherever this was going, however far he was willing to continue, Hermione didn't want him to stop. 

The dim light of the oil heater revealed reflected firelight spilling across the cupid bow of his lips and the strong curve of his jaw. His eyes were shadowed, but she could imagine he was studying her just as was him. Her anger was long gone at this point, but she felt as if her words weren't enough. She wanted to _show_ him what he meant to her. How she couldn't lose him. How she was forever his. 

Her arms folded over his shoulders, pulling him to her against the wall, and his hands fell just above her butt. She kissed him again as he leaned his hips against hers in a brief stroke of untested pleasure, and she could feel the hard length of him through the seams of his uniform. Hermione threw her head back at the touch, breaking their searing kiss, and she rolled her hips forwards for more.

Steve groaned, low and intense, and it vibrated straight through Hermione's core. More. More. She reached to her toes, and his hands pulled her in, grasping the underside of her butt. He lifted her up off her feet again, and pushed her high up against the wall.

Hermione's legs fell open, and she pulled her woolen skirt higher up her thighs so she could wrap her legs around him. This, _this_ was what she wanted. 

He settled in the middle of her legs, hands firmly secured around the roundness of her butt, and he gazed down. "Hermione-" Steve whispered. He looked breathless and flushed, a first since the serum. 

For whatever reason, Hermione's attention was caught on a missing piece of fabric near his collarbone. It was a small hole in the white of his uniform, surrounded by a mass of dried mud and something thicker and darker, and Hermione briefly wondered if it was a bullet hole. If Steve had been _shot_ while he was away. 

One of his hands slid behind her head, and fisted a handful of her hair. He tugged her locks down sharply, pulling her chin and gaze up, and a breathless mew fell from her lips. She could have sworn that his eyes got darker. "You like that, huh?" he asked, his voice low and provocative. 

She could only pant in response. 

He searched her eyes, and opened his fist to caress the back of her head. "I want you to look at me when I say this to you," he decided, and she stared silently back. He leaned forwards closer. "I love you too," he confessed softly. "I've loved you since - probably Camp Lehigh in New Jersey."

Hermione's eyes widened. Her heart soared. "You've-" That was nearly a year ago. Hermione had only just figured out her own feelings within the month!

"Maybe even before that," he continued. "I knew you were it for me for a long time- and I just couldn't admit it to myself. Tie you down like that," his eyes searched hers, and he swallowed. "But there's a balm in surrender and a relief in succumbing. I know now that I don't ever want to wake up in this world and not have your eyes in my life." His gaze lowered. "Your lips," he said. "Your smile in the morning, or your voice in my ears." He leaned forwards and slowly pressed the softest of kisses against her forehead. 

Hermione closed her eyes, savoring the feel of his lips, and the adoration in her heart. 

He leaned back, and shook his head. "I don't ever want to waste another day without you knowing. I love you Hermione Granger," he declared. "I'm in love with you. The kind of love that's going to last for the rest of our lives and people write books about."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Song Link: [John Legend - Conversations in the Dark](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHombWueWLc)


End file.
